Lost in a Portrait
by obeetaybee
Summary: Will solving a fifty year old mystery offer Harry clues to the remaining Horcruxes and defeating Voldemort?
1. Prologue

_Last night, I dreamt of standing in a snow-covered clearing. All around me were towering evergreen trees, their boughs pointing towards the earth, heavy with a burden of fallen snow. I turned to take in my surroundings and noticed four paths breaking through the dark line of the trees._

_It was cold. I was cold. The ground in the clearing was covered with a deep, unbroken sheet of white. _

_I pulled my cloak closer around me as I breathed in the frozen air. My exhaled breath spread out in front of me like whispering smoke, disappearing rapidly with each inhalation. The stars above were masked from view by heavy gray clouds unleashing more sugar-fine snowflakes towards the earth._

_In the distance, I could hear the sound of explosions. A few moments later, the soil rumbled under my feet. When I closed my eyes, I could imagine the sounds of men yelling, screaming, running as the ground erupted up around them, carrying them down and covering them with snow, dirt and ashes. I could see them in my mind's eye, rushing through the trees, holding long weapons that shot flashes of fire from the blunt ends. _

_Somewhere in the expanse of this forest, there was a war raging. _

_I opened my eyes and the sounds were gone. Everything was muffled and silent, and I wondered, if I spoke aloud, would I be able to hear my voice?_

_Why was I here?_

_Gentle flakes of snow fell on me, alighting on my face with little biting pinpricks. I lifted my head towards them, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out like I used to when I was a child. My frozen hands brought the fur-lined cloak closer around my body and I pulled the hood up over my head. My feet were growing numb._

_From behind me, I heard a soft snort and turned, surprised to find a unicorn standing at the edge of the first path. The beautiful animal snorted and tossed his head, his horn shimmering against the falling flakes. His coat shone with an inner radiance, illuminating the trees around him with a soft glow. He bent his head towards me, his long white mane sliding over his shoulder to brush along the powder. Another sound came from my left, and I turned to find a large golden lion guarding the second path._

_I swung back towards the other two paths, the snow under my feet crunching loudly in the stillness of the clearing. Wind came rushing through the trees, causing them to sway and send drifts of snow swirling into my face. I shivered as I closed my eyes against the frozen onslaught, tucking my face into the side of my cloak. When the wind left the clearing, I opened my eyes again. The third path was now occupied by an enormous two-headed snake, clearly as tall as I was. The snake lifted one head and looked towards me, flicking its red, forked tongue, feeling for my scent._

_The fourth path was empty, the dark corridor silent. No snow covered the winding path, and I watched it for a moment, feeling a flicker of fear rush down my spine for the first time since arriving here. The darkness seemed alive, like it was waiting for me, wanting to swallow me whole._

_This time, the shiver that ran through my body had nothing to do with the cold. I was afraid to turn my back on the darkness, but even more afraid to keep staring at it. It was drawing me towards it, and I gasped as my foot sank deep into the snow in front of me. I looked down and then up again quickly, at once thankful for the freezing snow falling inside my boot. _

_The path was the mouth of Hell and it awaited me. My eyes filled with hot tears and I felt the heat of them freeze against my cheek as they tumbled down my face. Finally, I could stand it no more and turned back towards the lion and the unicorn._

_I jumped as the sound of another explosion ripped through the silence of the forest, echoing eerily against the snow-covered trees. Above, the low, gray clouds colored briefly with orange and red fury, and I knew the battle was no longer a trick of my imagination; the reverberations sounded much closer than before. _

_The unicorn and lion watched me, both motionless and utterly still. If it weren't for the steam of smoke from their breathing, I could have easily mistaken them for statues in the wood. _

_They seemed to be waiting, waiting for something from me. I didn't understand. _

_Then suddenly, I did. _

_I could feel the message they conveyed silently to me, just as I could feel the malice of the message from the paths behind me. It was a choice, of course. A choice I would have to make somewhere, sometime in the future. I stared at them with the darkness at my back and smiled through my tears, whispering, "I understand."_

_But would I remember?_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One Lengthening Shadows**

**The middle of March, Year Six**

Harry yawned loudly, causing Ron to look up from across the table and meet his eyes. Harry squeezed his eyes closed and shrugged his shoulders in apology.

"It's late, Hermione, let's go to bed," said Ron as he closed the book he was skimming for information on Horcruxes with a dull thud and he sneezed as he waved a plume of dust away.

Harry nodded in agreement, his body aching with fatigue. He sighed and looked at his watch; midnight had come and gone and the library had emptied out hours before. The only reason they still remained was that Hermione had asked for and received special permission from Madam Pince before closing.

"Do you want to bring it back to the common room?" Hermione asked him quietly, and Harry shook his head as he shut the book. He handed it to her, and she got up from the table to place all of their books back on the shelf in the Restricted Section.

Harry pushed in his chair and followed Ron and Hermione as they walked out of the library. Pausing behind them, he raked a hand through his unruly black hair. He pulled a folded piece of parchment from the back pocket of his jeans and unfolded it. Harry murmured the incantation quietly, watching the parchment closely to see if any professors or Filch was out and about. They had no desire to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, even with permission to be out. He folded and put it into one pocket and pulled his Invisibility Cloak from the other.

"Right, it looks as if we'll have to be careful when we reach our hallway. Filch and Mrs. Norris are on the sixth floor," he said as he shook out the cloak. Ron and Hermione crowded close around him, Ron bending over so his feet wouldn't show. He wrapped the cloak around them, and they walked silently up the stairs; the only sounds were the soft swoosh of the long cloak and an occasional stifled yawn from one of them.

They reached the seventh floor landing and stopped, blinded by a strange, piercing light coming from around the corner. It waxed and waned and threw out a magnificent arc of green light that illuminated the walls and stunned the portraits. There was a loud thump as the light disappeared, and an odd sound wafted through the hall towards them.

"Do you hear that?" Hermione asked, her body tensing as she turned towards Ron and Harry.

"What? The crying, you mean?" Ron looked down at her. "It's probably Moaning Myrtle."

"No," Hermione whispered as she peered out of the cloak into the gathering gloom of the hallway. "I've never seen Myrtle anywhere near our floor; besides, it doesn't sound like her. I think it may have something do with the odd light we just saw."

The noise from the other end of the hall increased in volume and the three of them pulled out their wands. "What do you think it is?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. He took the lead as they walked towards to the sound.

"I don't know. I can't imagine anyone using a deserted hallway as a place to have a good cry. Besides, whoever it is, they sound as if they're in pain. Oh!" she said breathlessly. "Look at all the portraits! None of them are moving at all! They all seem to be paralyzed in their frames, just like Muggle paintings."

Hermione was right. All the portraits were immobilized and looking towards the hallway as though the massive arc of light had awoken them, but every single expression was one of surprise and fear.

The few lit torches flickered in their brackets, the flames illuminating the stone walls weakly as they passed. Light was scarce through here, as everyone else in the castle was in bed for the night. They walked towards the darkened corner of the hallway and peered into the gloom and saw a hunched figure lying beneath a large empty portrait.

"Lumos," Harry whispered, bringing his wand hand out of the cloak. He looked at the painting curiously. The light was not reflecting off the canvas, but in fact looked as if it were being absorbed into the portrait. But then his attention was taken over by what was under the artwork on the wall.

Lying before them sprawled facedown on the cold marble floor was a girl, her tattered and shredded robes spreading around her like broken bat wings. She turned her face towards the floor and rested her cheek on the cold stone. She tried to pull her arms and legs under her, as close to her body as possible, but was not able to accomplish it without moaning in pain.

"Blimey," Ron exclaimed as they pulled off the Invisibility cloak and rushed towards her, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do.

"I'll run for Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, her voice shaking as she pointed to the deep gashes on the girl's legs.

"Good idea," said Harry as he kneeled down next to the girl. "Ron, go get Professor McGonagall."

Ron nodded. Both he and Hermione ran back down the hallway, their footsteps gradually disappearing as they headed in separate directions.

Harry watched helplessly as the girl's breath hitched with silent sobs. She tried to push herself up on her hands, her forehead still on the floor. "Hey," Harry said softly, moving to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you should wait for Madam Pom…"

The girl flinched at his approaching hand and whipped into a sitting position. Her long, dirty hair hung in her face, obscuring it from view. Scrambling away from him, she crab-walked backwards until she hit the corner of the hallway and stopped. She pulled her legs close to her chest, her knees scraped and raw. She was shaking her head as if to ward him away.

"I'm sorry," whispered Harry, inching closer as the girl wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing her forehead down to rest on her scraped kneecaps. She was unbelievably filthy and bleeding from various cuts and scrapes all along her arms and legs. Harry winced as he noticed her bare feet; one of her heels was swollen and oozing a foul-looking yellow liquid. Harry wasn't sure, but it looked infected. "I'm here to help you, I won't hurt you."

The light from the full moon shone through the high windows above her and turned the girl's pale hair an odd, silvery color. Harry was struck by an urge to place his hand on the top of her bowed head, wanting to take all her pain away.

"Who did this to you?" he whispered. Harry wished the idea of one of his fellow students, a girl no less, being viciously attacked at Hogwarts was unheard of, but he knew it had happened many times in the past.

The girl raised her head slowly as she took a ragged breath. She brought her hands up and pushed her palms against her eyes, exposing her broken and dirt-encrusted fingernails. Her shaking hands continued upwards into her hair, her body wincing slightly as they caught on tangles, exposing her face more clearly. Harry fought the urge to cringe again at the sight of her swollen and scraped cheek. The skin under her eyes was bruised black with a sickening purple-green tinge.

"Can you tell me what your name is?" Harry asked softly as he brought the light from his wand closer to her. "What House do you belong to?" There was something about her that seemed familiar, but he wasn't able to place where or when he had seen her before.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him. She looked confused, her brow furrowing in bewilderment and despair.

"Henry?" she whispered in a raspy and raw voice. She closed her eyes tightly against the brightness from his wand.

But any questions of the mysterious Henry he might have had were lost as she gasped in sudden pain, her spine straightening as she squeezed her eyes closed. She grabbed behind her at the stones, trying desperately for purchase, but failing. An anguished moan escaped her lips and her head fell forward onto her knees. The sound of the rushing feet on the stone floor reached them, and Harry looked away from her as she brought her arms up to cover her head. She whimpered pitifully as she tried to ward off whatever silent demons were plaguing her. Ron and Professor McGonagall came running down the hall, Professor McGonagall's tartan slippers flapping against the cold stone.

"Potter, what is it? What has happened?" Professor McGonagall said before she noticed the girl. Ron stood behind her, his freckled face twisted with worry. Harry noticed he kept tapping his wand against his robe, still on the alert.

"Oh my dear Lord," Professor McGonagall whispered as she rushed over to the girl's side. She knelt down in front of her and asked, "Who is she?"

"We don't know, Professor," Harry said as he moved closer to the girl, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. As his hand touched her robe, Harry felt the world shift, and he was plunged into absolute silent darkness.

The blackness felt oily and claustrophobic. It was hard to breathe. With a start, he realized his wand was gone. He put his arms out in front of him, not sure if there was anything or anyone there. He felt off-balance, like he was teetering on the edge of a vast chasm and could fall to his death at any moment. He knelt down, reassured to find there was still ground below him. His fingers drifted over a gravelly surface next to his trainers, and he brought them up to his nose. It was dirt. He brushed his hand off and slowly stood back up. From somewhere to his left came the faint sound of breathing, and a laugh echoed quietly in the darkness, causing a tingle of fear to race down his spine.

In the darkness, he heard something or someone whisper his name, and then he slammed back into himself, kneeling in the hallway. The hand holding his wand smashed to the floor as he fought to keep himself from falling over.

The sound of the spell Professor McGonagall spoke to light the flames in the sconces seemed to come from a great distance. Harry watched her mouth move, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

For the first time all year, his scar prickled with a sharp pain as he grabbed the girl's hand. She stiffened and attempted to pull away from him. Instead of letting go, he squeezed her hand gently and she relaxed her grip as if she had no more strength to fight. Harry instantly felt sorry as he noticed how badly her hands were scraped and cut. He rubbed at his scar with the back of the hand holding his wand.

He cleared his throat when his first attempt to speak failed. "I haven't been able to get her to speak to me and I don't recognize her," Harry said.

"Where is Miss Granger?"

"She went to fetch Madam Pomfrey."

As if the sound of her name had summoned her, Madam Pomfrey appeared next to Professor McGonagall, her skirts billowing around her as she knelt down next to Harry. She exclaimed in horror at the girl's condition and pulled out her wand.

"Minerva, we need to get her back to the hospital wing. I can't treat her here in the hallway."

"Who could have done this?" Professor McGonagall asked no one in particular, her pinched face ashen.

"We don't know, Professor," Hermione said, grasping Ron's arm. "We were going back to the common room when we heard the sound of crying." She let out a surprised gasp as the girl slumped over and fainted. Her hair slid down to cover her pale, bruised face. Her limp hand was still held in Harry's.

"Weasley, go notify the Headmaster, I believe he is in residence. Tell him to meet us in the hospital wing. The password for his office is _snockering snickerbees_!" McGonagall called after him as Ron streaked down the corridor. The deputy headmistress squared her shoulders as she stood up and pushed her glasses up on her nose, looking down at the wounded girl.

Harry let go of the girl's hand as Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and conjured a stretcher for the unconscious young woman. With another flick of her wand, the girl rose off of the floor and hovered prone in the air, her torn robes brushing the stone floor. She fell silently onto the stretcher as Professor McGonagall nodded her head towards the nurse and walked down the hall.

The five of them made their way slowly down four floors to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey ran ahead as they neared the open double doors. She pulled down the sheets of the bed furthest from the door; the one Harry had spent many nights in since coming to Hogwarts years before. Professor McGonagall motioned her wand towards the bed, the girl rising off the stretcher and falling gently onto the clean sheets, still in a faint.

"I almost don't know where to begin," Madam Pomfrey murmured as she started to examine the girl. She gently pulled the shredded robes from her and then stopped. "Minerva, look at this."

Professor McGonagall came up beside the bed, and Madam Pomfrey pointed towards the breast of the robe. Professor McGonagall started in surprise at the sight of the Gryffindor crest on the girl's garment. "I've never seen her before, and I know all of the students in my classes!"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried glance, and Hermione inched closer to Harry and curled her hand around his upper arm. This was getting odder and odder. Who was this girl?

Behind them, the hospital doors swung open and Professor Dumbledore glided through, clutching his walking staff and wearing a scarlet robe over his pajamas. His burned and withered hand hidden in the voluminous sleeves. The staff thudded against the floor as he strode towards the bed, Ron following closely behind him.

"Professor McGonagall, what has happened? Only by pure luck was I able to meet young Weasley in front of my office before he awoke the entire school. He said a student has been attacked?"

"It's true, Professor Dumbledore, another student has been attacked," Professor McGonagall said, her voice shaking. "Violently attacked."

She turned back towards the bed as Madame Pomfrey invoked a spell to change the girl's dirty, ripped robes and filthy uniform instantly into a clean white shift. Madame Pomfrey waved her wand towards the shelf under the bedside cabinet and her discarded clothes settled there, neatly folded. She then walked to her office, returning a moment later with a large vial of a smoking purple liquid.

"Who is she?" Dumbledore asked as he approached the bed.

"I don't know, Albus, she's wearing a Gryffindor crest, but I don't recognize her. Do you think she could belong to another House and is only wearing -"

She tore her gaze away from the girl to look at Professor Dumbledore who had stopped a foot from the girl's bed. "Albus?" she asked, her voice full of surprise at the expression on his face.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't recognize her, would you?" His voice was soft as he gazed down at the girl. "She was after your time."

Madam Pomfrey had moved to the girl's head, almost finished with the cleaning of the girl's wounds and removing the dirt and filth that covered her. "Oh my, oh no," she exclaimed, causing all eyes to swing to her pale face. The hand holding her wand started to shake as the other came up to cover her mouth, masking her look of horror.

The three students standing behind the teachers stiffened, and Hermione grasped Ron and Harry's arms in fear as they moved closer towards the bed. Professor McGonagall steadied Madam Pomfrey's wand arm. "Poppy? What is it? What's the matter?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and started to mutter different spell and potion names under her breath. She looked up with a stricken expression on her face. "I'll have to check my books but I don't know if we have a potion on hand powerful enough to heal her, Professor Dumbledore, her tongue is missing! We'll have to transfer her to St. Mungo's."

Professor McGonagall's face turned even whiter as she gasped.

"But, but she spoke to me!" Harry exclaimed, and the two teachers and nurse turned to him in surprise.

"Potter, you said she had not spoken," McGonagall said her voice filled with reproach.

"And then what happened, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Harry looked at the three adults and then back towards the girl. "When I asked her what House she was in, she looked up at me and said the name Henry. Then she gasped, like she was in terrible pain and a moment later when Professor McGonagall arrived, she fainted." Harry glanced from Professor McGonagall to Professor Dumbledore. "Do you think this is the work of Voldemort, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he stroked his long white beard for a moment before speaking. "A very good question, Harry. I haven't seen a curse this powerful in over fifty years."

McGonagall brought her hand up to her throat. "A curse removed this poor girl's tongue?"

"Oh yes, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said as he summoned a chair close to the bed. He sat down heavily, as if carrying a terrible burden. He looked at the sleeping girl, his face betraying no emotion. "The moment she spoke her first word, the curse went into effect." He clutched his staff tightly with his good hand. "Someone went through a lot of trouble to keep this young lady silent." He looked out towards the windows, deep in thought. "Madam Pomfrey, it is imperative that she stays here, where we can protect her. I have complete trust in you. I know you will do everything in your power to cure her of her surface wounds."

He turned to Madam Pomfrey, but his face wavered for a moment and even he seemed shaken. "If you can not, I may be able to assist you."

"Do you know her, Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Yes, Minerva," he said as he shifted in his seat, turning to face the three teenagers standing behind him. Professor McGonagall clicked her tongue at the sight of them standing near the doorway of the infirmary.

"You three, back to Gryffindor Tower immediately, and what the three of you were doing roaming the halls at this hour, I do not care to know." McGonagall said sharply as she closed her eyes, then she sighed and softened her voice. "Potter, Weasley, Granger? Please keep this to yourselves until we have discovered who did this to her."

The three of them nodded as they started walking slowly towards the doors, not wanting to miss the conversation as Professor McGonagall turned back to Dumbledore.

"Albus? Who is she?"

Dumbledore waited until Madam Pomfrey had walked briskly back into her office before answering. "She was a student here, Minerva; her name is Adria Thornwood."

"Adria Thornwood? Alazar Thornwood's daughter?" asked Professor McGonagall thoughtfully. "I thought she was murdered the summer after the disappearance of her family.." She stopped speaking and looked off towards the high windows. "I remember hearing stories about a student who went missing while attending Hogwarts, however, I always felt it was a rumor. I never dreamed it was Adria Thornwood. Albus are you sure it's her? The girl lying before us still looks sixteen. Adria Thornwood has been missing for almost--"

"Oh yes, Minerva," Dumbledore interrupted. "Only it wasn't a rumor and she wasn't the only student. Only after her disappearance was her brother to be missing from their home. Her family has never resurfaced. Grindelwald always said he had nothing to do with the disappearances, but I never believed him. It's a mystery, yes? Where has she been all this time, I wonder?"

"Well," Professor McGonagall said as she and Dumbledore's shadows moved against the curtain. "She hasn't used a time turner. We have all three of them we are authorized to use under lock and key here within Hogwarts. I only know this because I checked when Miss Granger turned the one she was using back in two years ago."

Professor McGonagall summoned a chair for herself next to Dumbledore, and she sank into it gratefully, her hands grasping the arms.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, their faces registering the same shock her felt at Dumbledore's words.

"A student suddenly returns after being missing for years?" Ron asked, looking startled at the loudness of his voice. Hermione shushed him as the wooden doors swung silently shut behind him. Harry stood back, looking at the double doors in silence, trying to make sense in his head of everything that had happened in the past hour.

"How come we never heard of her before?" Ron asked as Hermione pulled on both of their shirts to get them moving towards the common room.

"I don't know, even Professor McGonagall said she thought it was a rumor," Hermione whispered as they walked up the stairs towards their tower. "I can't imagine what the headmaster must have done to keep her disappearance from the Daily Prophet and from the history of Grindelwald."

"Who cursed her? I thought at first when we saw her lying there Malfoy had something to do with it, but if Professor Dumbledore says she was a student here fifty years ago, that wouldn't make sense." Harry said as he stopped outside of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. He said the password, and the Fat Lady snorted as she woke up to let them in. Hermione shuddered as she walked through the hole behind the portrait.

"She must be somewhere in the history of this school," Hermione said as she fell into one of the cushy armchairs in front of the fire. "Did you see Professor Dumbledore? He looked as if he aged a hundred years overnight."

"I suppose you would too if a student whom you thought dead returned after being gone for however many years," Ron said as he sank into the armchair across from Hermione.

"More importantly," Hermione said as she rubbed her temples, "why hasn't she aged? She still looks young."

Ron shrugged and played with a loose thread of his jumper. "Are there any books in here? You know, with pictures from the previous Houses?"

"Do you mean like Hogwarts, A History but with pictures of past Houses? Hmmm…" Hermione closed her eyes, her head falling against the back of the chair. She rubbed her temples as she thought about Ron's question. "I can't think of any other Hogwarts books like that. But are there other books? There are few on the shelf that may be helpful, but I don't have the energy to go through them tonight."

Harry stood behind them, only half listening to their conversation. He was still thinking about the girl. Adria. Why had she seemed so familiar?

"We should investigate the Thornwood family," Harry said, turning towards his friends. "And Grindelwald. What do we know of him, anyway? We've been so caught up in trying to defeat Voldemort that we've forgotten about who came before him."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "You may be right. I wonder if there are any books on Grindelwald in the Restricted Section? I loathe asking Madam Pince for help; she would probably rescind my approval for being in there in the first place."

"Ron, do you know anything about them?" Harry asked his friend, who was staring at the fire.

"No, mate. Wait," Ron said as he sat forward in his chair. "I think I remember my father mentioning the name before. Think, Ron. Think." He closed his eyes and tapped his forehead. "Sorry, Harry. I can't remember. I could ask Mum; she seems to know everyone in the wizarding world, but then she'd want to know why I want to know."

Harry felt an acute pang of loss for Sirius. His godfather would have known about the Thornwoods, Harry was sure of it.

"What about Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked as she stood up from the chair and stretched, yawning loudly. "Write to him, he may know something. But let's not talk about this anymore tonight. My head is spinning. Thankfully, tomorrow is Saturday and I need to go to sleep. I'll be able to do some more research after the library opens tomorrow. Goodnight, Harry. Goodnight, Ron," she said as she went up the stairs to her dormitory.

The boys both said goodnight, and Harry pretended not to notice Ron's eyes following Hermione as she walked away. He sat down in Hermione's deserted chair, and Crookshanks jumped up on the arm, purring. Harry scratched his ears and looked at Ron.

Ron had his feet stretched out before him, his trainers dangerously close to the fire grate. "I've never seen anyone in a state as she was, Harry," Ron said quietly.

"I know," Harry said as Crookshanks came down off of the arm and stepped into Harry's lap, kneading his paws into Harry's stomach. His purring was loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire. The cat turned towards Ron before settling comfortably in Harry's lap.

"The Unforgivable spells we saw last year in the Department of Mysteries never leave a scratch on you. She looked as if she crawled out of a grave," said Ron as he templed his fingers under his chin. "You don't think…" he said as an awful idea came to mind.

"No, I don't," said Harry quickly as he scratched Crookshank's ears. He stared at the fire for a moment, trying to find the words to tell Ron of his encounter when he touched the girl. "Something happened to me when I touched her."

"What do you mean?"

"When I touched her shoulder, I was plunged into a dark tunnel or something. It was black as night and stifling. Even odder, I could hear something breathing and giggling."

"Then what happened?"

"Then nothing happened. I knelt down and touched the floor…" Harry broke off as he looked down at his hand. There was dirt under his fingernails. He turned it over and examined his hand, looking closely at the dark smudge on his palm.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, but my hand is dirty," Harry said. "Did I leave at all? Suddenly disappear and then reappear a moment later?"

"No, you were there the entire time." Ron shook his head. "Where do you think you were?"

"I must have been where she was." Harry shuddered. "It was horrible, Ron. I was in complete darkness, and it was hard to breathe. I hope she hasn't been trapped there for the last fifty years. If it were me, I think I would have gone insane."

"Who's to say she hasn't?"

"What do you mean?"

"Her. The girl, Adria. Who's to say she isn't barking? I think I would be starkers too." Ron shifted in his seat as he turned back towards the fire. "It's a mystery, which I'm sure Hermione will want to solve. It's late," he paused and then yawned loudly. "We'll think more clearly in the morning. Let's go to bed."

"Sounds good to me, mate," Harry said as he stood up with Crookshanks in his arms. He put the purring cat into the seat he just vacated and watched as Crookshanks turned round and round, kneading the worn chintz covering with his claws before finally curling up to go to sleep. He followed Ron up the stairs, both of them moving carefully to their beds so they wouldn't wake Dean, Neville and Seamus.

Harry was so tired that he was tempted to crawl into bed in his clothes.

"Hermione must have been tired," Ron remarked quietly as he changed into his pajamas. "She didn't leave any knitting sitting around for the house elves to find." He rubbed his eyes and yawned again, not even bothering to cover his mouth as he crawled under the covers.

Harry didn't answer Ron; instead he watched the moon through the window as he buttoned his pajama shirt. It didn't matter anyway; by the time Harry pulled the covers back, Ron was already snoring.

Tonight was the full moon. Not a good time to be sending an owl to Professor Lupin. He would wait a few days, to give Professor Lupin time to recuperate from the moon and also to see if they could find anything about the girl or Grindelwald here at the school.

Harry yawned. He should have been asleep hours ago. Tomorrow morning was Quidditch practice, and if he flew distracted his team would surely notice. He closed his eyes and fell into dreams about snitches with bright blue eyes.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two Come Softly, Sleep **

The next morning, Ron and Harry were up before the sun, both of them yawning uncontrollably. They struggled into their clothing in the predawn darkness, trying not to wake up their dorm mates. Quidditch practice was scheduled for seven in morning, so if they wanted breakfast in the Great Hall beforehand, they would have to hurry.

"I should have just slept in." Ron struggled with his jumper and yawned. "Who needs food when we can just sleep for another hour?"

"We do," Harry said, stepping into his trainers. "I booked the pitch until one, so we'll miss lunch too if we don't get something to eat now."

"Look at them, the sleepy heads," Ron said, motioning with his hand towards the other beds, their curtains still firmly drawn. "Why'd I want to play Quidditch again?"

Harry reached for his glasses on the bedside cabinet and grabbed his broom. "Come on, Ron. You'll feel better once you've eaten."

The pair walked down the stairs to the common room. To their surprise, they found Hermione fully dressed and waiting for them in a chair by the fire. She had a pile of parchment and a quill on her lap, which she rolled into a tube as she stood up. "I found some information on her," she announced as they walked out of the portrait hole and down the stairs towards the Great Hall.

Ron tipped his broom over his shoulder. "What do you mean, you found information on her? What did you do to your hair?"

Hermione threw him an odd look over her shoulder. "Some of us decided not to have a lie-in this morning and I was able to do a bit research before Madam Pince arrived in the library," Hermione said with a hint of haughtiness. "It wasn't in the Restricted Section, so I wasn't breaking any rules by being there before Madam Pince. And I didn't find all the information on her, only some. Like I said." Hermione paused and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I only braided my hair, Ron. I wanted it out of my way."

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "The sun isn't even up yet. If I wanted a lie-in, you wouldn't see me until elevenses." Ron looked down at his feet on the stairs. "Yeah, your hair looks nice," he mumbled softly, so only Harry heard him. Harry shot a glance over at Ron whose face had turned quite pink.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, turning to the two boys as they reached the landing and started to walk down the marble stairs. "And I have to tell you what happened when I went into the hospital wing this morning to check on her."

They came to the entrance of the Great Hall and sat at the end of the Gryffindor table out of earshot of everyone else. Above them, ominous clouds formed a dark blanket across the ceiling of the Great Hall in angry shaped formations that faded into lighter shades of gray as the sun rose in the sky.

"Wonderful," Ron quipped as he looked up. "Just what we need for practice. Rain." Lucky for them, the Hall was mostly deserted, as their classmates took advantage of the drab Saturday morning to sleep in. Only the other Gryffindor Quidditch players were fools enough to be up this early. Half of the candles normally lit for meals floated above them, adding to the somberness of the morning. As soon as Hermione placed her parchment rolls onto the table, their plates were filled with delicious-smelling food.

"Her father was the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Hermione said, watching with slight aversion on her face as Ron tore into the kippers.

"Whose father?" Ron asked around the food in his mouth.

"You mean like Mr. Crouch's old position?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron. Harry knew he would catch on quickly whom they were talking about.

"Yes, exactly," Hermione said. "And she and her older brother both attended Hogwarts. She had been sorted into Gryffindor and her brother Slytherin."

Ron looked up from his meal. "How'd you find all this out?"

"Well. I remembered Madam Pince remarking once she felt it was growing near time to move all the back issues of the Daily Prophet she had in the library to a storeroom. She told me quite proudly she had every single issue since it's inception in 432. I simply started looking through the old issues from 1941 forward," Hermione smiled. "I found information on her family in 1943."

"Hermione, you're not using that time turner again, are you? How'd you go through that many newspapers in only a few hours?"

"Don't be silly, Ron." Hermione said as she nipped a piece of bacon off his plate. "I simply skimmed the summaries of each year until I found something that looked as if it might concern her," she swallowed her bacon and sipped her goblet of milk. "Oddly, there were entire weeks missing from the archives in 1944. I only found information on her father's appointment to the Ministry in November of 1943." She stopped speaking for a moment to chew another bite of bacon. "There were weeks missing right about the Christmas Holiday and then there were a few weeks missing again about six months later. I wonder if Madam Pince knows?"

"How'd you know then she was sorted into Gryffindor?" Harry asked. He leaned forward in his chair, his breakfast forgotten.

"Well, it was published in the article on her father." Hermione's brows furrowed. "What I found interesting is the article mentioned her older brother wanting to attend Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts."

"Well, hmmm," Ron said thoughtfully. "That's not surprising if he was sorted into Slytherin. Even Malfoy said something about preferring to attend Durmstrang. It is one of the only schools to actually teach the Dark Arts, not the defense of them."

"Well, at least I know not all of the students from Durmstrang are evil," Hermione said, looking innocent.

Ron's elbow hit his broom as he was reaching for his goblet and knocked it over. The sound echoed through the almost silent Great Hall and Hermione cringed at the unexpected noise. Ron leaned over to pick it up and said, "Maybe you should write Vicky and ask if would be able to check past attendees of his school."

Hermione put down her fork, picked up her quill from beside her plate and unrolled the parchment. "Good suggestion, Ron."

Ron looked as if he were going to choke. "I wasn't serious!"

Hermione smiled slyly as she bent her head towards her parchment. "I'm making a note here to see if I can find anything else out to go with that. I wonder though, what happened to her parents? Why weren't their bodies ever found? Maybe because of the war?" Hermione asked herself, writing another note before looking up and staring at the windows high above her.

As if she wished it, a gray barn owl swept in towards their table. He dropped off her damp edition of the Daily Prophet and held out its leg for the Knut she offered before flying back out of the upper windows. Hermione started to untie the twine encircling it and then stopped, laying both hands down on the soggy paper. "Oh! I almost forgot what I wanted to tell you. Before I went to the library, I decided to check on her and when I reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was in a right state."

Harry leaned forward. "What happened? The girl, is she alright?"

"Well, that's what was so odd. When I entered the room, she was nowhere to be seen. Her clothes were still there and the bed was mussed, but she was missing."

"Where'd she go?" Ron asked as he sipped his milk.

"Wipe the milk off your lip, Ron," she said before answering his question. "Well, at first we didn't know. While I was there, Madam Pomfrey summoned Professor Dumbledore. I tried to stay out of the way so I wouldn't be sent from the room. When he arrived, they walked into Madam Pomfrey's office and I heard a strange noise near her bed, so I walked over to it and lifted up the bed covers," she stopped and looked at the two boys.

"Well?" Harry asked, impatient. "Where was she?"

"Under the bed, curled up in a ball, sound asleep."

"Under the bed?" Ron asked as he put down his goblet of milk, taking care this time to wipe his upper lip on his sleeve. "What was she doing there?"

"Well, hiding, of course." Hermione looked up at the High Table as Professor Dumbledore sat down at the center. She leaned towards the two boys across from her. "At least that's what Professor Dumbledore said, and, I heard him say to Madam Pomfrey he sent an owl to Bill."

"Bill?" Ron pushed his plate away and the remainder of his breakfast disappeared. "Do you mean my brother Bill? What does Dumbledore need with my brother?"

"Honestly, Ron. Think. Your brother Bill works for Gringotts as a what?"

"A curse breaker," he said slowly as it dawned on him what Dumbledore would need a curse breaker for. "Oh! Of course!"

If Bill was able to break the curse, Harry wondered just what Adria would say. What could have happened to her fifty years ago to deserve a curse that left her without a tongue? How did she end up fifty years in the future cowering under a portrait, all bloody and bruised? Had she used a time turner in reverse?

Harry scratched the top of his head absently. If he were honest with himself, he would admit the mystery of Adria Thornwood was taking his mind off of just what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement.

Harry drank some orange juice from his goblet. "Do you think she might have used a time turner?" he asked, remembering Hermione using one in their third year to take extra classes.

"No," she said thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Time turners are extremely rare outside of the Ministry and very hard to procure. Think of the consequences if You-Know-Who were to find one. Professor McGonagall said there were only a few authorized for use outside of the Ministry, and the one I used had been within Hogwarts walls for over five hundred years. If I thought she had used a time turner, trust me I would have spoken up before now."

"So Dumbledore thinks Bill may be able to break the curse on Adria," Harry said.

"I suppose we'll have to see," she said, looking towards the Entrance Hall.

"See what?" Ginny Weasley said as she sat down next to Harry at the end of the table. Harry felt his chest tightening at the sight of her. Dean came over and sat down beside her and the flash of heat he felt had more to do with jealousy then anything to do with Adria Thornwood.

Ginny and Dean pulled their gold plates towards them and they instantly filled with eggs and bacon. She looked up and smiled at the three of them across the table as she reached for the flagon of pumpkin juice.

"Uh, if Ron gets sick at practice today seeing how much he's eaten this morning," Harry said quickly, catching Hermione's and Ron's eyes.

Ginny looked up from her goblet and narrowed her eyes at the three of them. She paused in pouring her juice and sniffed at them once to let them know she knew Ron wasn't what they were talking about before she resumed eating.

"Oh, look. There's Hagrid," Harry said, trying to change the subject as he spotted their half-giant Care of Magical Creatures teacher. As he said that, he looked at Hermione, who looked at Ron, who looked back at both of them. Ron slowly smiled around his mouthful of food.

Of course! Hagrid had attended Hogwarts in 1943. He should be able to recall Adria Thornwood. The crest on her dirty, ripped robes was from Gryffindor and that meant they would have been in the same house.

If he remembered, Harry thought ruefully. After all, 1943 was the year Tom Riddle managed to have Hagrid expelled for keeping Aragog. Hagrid was also originally blamed for the death of Moaning Myrtle. Of course it was Tom Riddle, heir of Salazar Slytherin who opened the Chamber of Secrets and who had released the Basilisk tormenting the school that year.

"After practice," Harry said as he got up from the table.

"Oi, Potter," Jimmy Coates said as he walked towards them with Ritchie Coote from the other end of the table. "We're ready for a good hard practice. How about you Ron, Ginny?"

Ron stuffed a kipper into his mouth and nodded at Jimmy, taking one last sip from his goblet. He looked up at Hermione again as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, reddening a bit as she smiled approvingly at him. He stood up, picked up his Clean Sweep and slung it over his shoulder.

Ginny sighed as she looked down at her full plate. Dean pushed a forkful of eggs into his mouth as he stood up from the table. "I guess a little is better than none at all." She stood up and frowned as her food disappeared. She followed Dean out of the Hall but paused at the double doors to wait for Ron and Harry.

There was a crash of thunder from above as Hermione gathered her parchment and quill to her chest. "I'll be in the library," she said, standing up from the bench. Lightning streaked across the ceiling of the Great Hall, briefly illuminating the nearly empty room. "I want to send an owl to the Daily Prophet."

"Whatever for?" Ron asked, cringing as the thunder continued to rumble ominously above him.

"I want to get my hands on those missing newspapers," Hermione said as she came around the table to stand near the two boys. "Once I'm done there, if you're still having practice, I'll be in the hospital wing, sitting with her."

There was another streak of lightning and a crash of thunder, which rattled the windows behind Professor Dumbledore. Harry looked up and caught the headmaster's eye. It might have been a trick of lighting reflecting off of Dumbledore's half-moon glasses, but Harry thought the headmaster had winked at him. Harry gave him a half smile and turned towards the hallway as a flash of lightning briefly lit the huge room with a radiant white light.

"Blimey," Ron mumbled as the Quidditch players from the Great Hall walked to the changing room. The sound of the thunder rolled down the hallway, echoing off the stone as it gathered density and volume. "I hate storms.

Thankfully, by the time Harry had changed and headed out to the Quidditch pitch, his mind was clear of the mysterious girl and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He had no time to concentrate on anything other than his team and flying, and once his feet left the ground and the wind and rain were striking him, his only thoughts were of capturing the snitch.

Up and down and around the pitch he sailed, loving the feeling of freedom flying on his broom gave him. He could feel the wind and rain in his teeth and realized he was smiling. It felt so good to be back on his broom, and if only the weather would have cooperated, he could have stayed outside all day.

After about twenty minutes, he spotted the snitch zooming up towards the clouds and he pulled up on his broom to follow. From every side lightning broke through the clouds, their electricity burning within the gray clouds with blue and green fire. He had lost sight of the snitch again; the rain was growing too impenetrable to see.

Harry flew down closer to the ground and to his disappointment discovered the pitch was being invaded by the weather above. He looked towards the school and saw the turrets of the castle were obscured by the low-hanging mist. Fog was settling down over landscape, and he gave the signal for them all to land.

"This is to weather to be flying in," Harry said as he and Dean landed alongside one another. "I'm no Oliver Wood. We're in good form and it'll certainly do us no good to be in the Hospital Wing for some pepper-up potion in the weeks before our next match." The rest of the team emerged from the clouds above to land on the pitch.

Ginny and Ron landed alongside of Harry, and they looked just as wet and miserable as the rest of their teammates. He let them all know they were done for the day and the other players started back to the castle. Harry looked at Ginny who was shivering violently. Her blue tinged lips quivered and she looked like she was clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. He wished he had something dry to drape over her shoulders. She wiped her brow, sending droplets of water flying towards the ground. She gave Harry a bit of a smile before turning towards the changing rooms.

Harry was glad the three of them were able to practice over summer holiday after he had arrived at the Burrow. Both of them showed obvious improvement since their last match. Ron's confidence had grown at playing Keeper and Ginny was showing her a natural talent as a Chaser. In this practice alone, she had scored at least five goals from what Harry could see flying above them all. Too bad the Slytherins were too cowardly to brave the rain and watch them practice. Even in the rain and fog, Harry knew they had a good chance of winning the Quidditch Cup this year. He would have loved to see Malfoy's face turn purple watching Ron and Ginny play.

The three of them headed into the changing room as the rain continued to pound the grass around them. The insides of their boots were drenched with water from the myriad puddles quickly forming on the pitch.

When they reached the locker room, Ron and Harry changed quickly, neither bothering to do more than towel dry their hair before heading back towards their dorm room to drop off their brooms. Hermione was not in the library, so they walked towards the hospital wing, talking quietly about the practice today and their upcoming match with Ravenclaw.

As they entered the hallway of the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey came rushing by them, not pausing to say excuse me as she ran towards the stairs. From up ahead came the sounds of crashing furniture and screaming.

"Hermione!" Ron said as they both ran around the final corner to the double doors. To their relief, she was crouched outside the doors in the corner, flinching as the sounds of smashing furniture increased from the behind the closed doors. Ron and Harry ran to her and she stood up, recoiling at the sound of a massive crash right behind the doors. Her face was awash with fear and worry and she grasped Ron's arm.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

Hermione was not able to answer right away. She took Harry's arm in her other hand and led them away from the doors. The anguished screaming they heard behind the door increased and then suddenly stopped just as the sound of glass exploding wrenched the three of them even farther down the hallway. Ron and Harry pushed Hermione in front of them and kneeled down over her, protecting her from the unknown danger. The wooden double doors shook from the impact of the explosion. The silence that followed was even more unnerving then the sounds of the destruction before.

From the other direction came the sound of rushing feet and Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey came up the stairs. Professor McGonagall followed closely behind them.

Dumbledore paused outside of the doors and looked down at the three teenagers huddled under the windows in the hallway. "Are you hurt?" he asked them as they stood back up. Hermione stayed behind Harry and Ron.

They all shook their heads as Bill Weasley, Ron's oldest brother, came running up the stairs. "I came as soon as I could, Professor Dumbledore," he said.

"Thank you, Bill." Dumbledore said as he turned towards the wooden doors. "It seems our guest has worn herself out. Let's take our wands out, for our own protection. We'll use stunning spells only if needed."

The adults nodded as they stood in front of the doors. Professor Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Is the door locked?" Madam Pomfrey shook her head, her hands twisting her apron into knots. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the doors and sparks flew from the end as the doors opened before him.

The hospital wing looked as if Neville had badly mixed a potion and it had gone horribly wrong. Beds were overturned, their sheets and coverings shredded and raining down from the ceiling like confetti. The screens dividing the beds were bent at odd angles and one of them lay half in a window and half out. The most unsettling sight was all the glass from the casement windows gone. Rain was pouring through the windows, adding to devastation of the infirmary.

Ron peeked behind the door as the adults moved further into the room. He motioned to Harry and Hermione, his face white as he pointed to the large shards of glass protruding from the back of the wooden doors. Hermione swallowed hard and pulled Ron from behind the door to stand close to her.

"What happened?" Harry quietly asked again.

Hermione shook her head, motioning towards the adults before them. "I'll explain later. It's my fault this happened."

To Harry's dismay, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how Hermione could have caused the girl to go berserk like this. Maybe Ron was right and she was insane. He stepped around a mangled bed frame towards the adults.

"Do you see her anywhere?" Professor McGonagall quietly asked Professor Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head and then turned towards a large blanket closet near the windows. He stayed the others from him with a slight movement of his hand and walked towards the closet, his wand up and ready. He opened the cabinet door slowly only to find Adria curled around her bent legs, rocking back and forth. She stared unseeingly at the wall of the cabinet with her lips trembling, mumbling silently to herself. Professor Dumbledore lowered his wand and quietly approached her.

"Hello Adria." He spoke to her gently the way one might to a small child in the middle of a tantrum. "I might say you've had a very rough time of it, my dear." Adria turned her head away from him to face the back of the cabinet.

"I don't think she poses any more threats to us," Professor Dumbledore said, turning towards the other teachers. "Please put your wands away, Bill, Professor McGonagall."

Professor Dumbledore swept his wand over the destroyed furniture and intoned, "Reparo!" and instantly all the beds, metal screens and bedside cabinets rearranged themselves back into shape. "Please move to the side, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," he said before he boomed the spell once again towards the glass quivering on the back of the wooden doors and floor. The three of them rapidly moved to the other side of the room as the glass shards flew back into the windows like a Muggle movie played in reverse. Professor Dumbledore turned back to the girl in the cupboard.

"Here now, come take my hand. Let's get you back into bed." He had to coax her for a few more minutes before she would allow Dumbledore to lead her back towards the beds.

"A sleeping draught, Madam Pomfrey, is what I believe is needed here. Would you like to sleep without any dreams?"

To Harry's surprise, she looked at him with haunted eyes and nodded her head once before curling on her side towards the windows, away from them. Madam Pomfrey brought the cup over to the bed and sat down alongside her and helped her swallow the concoction. The nurse showed a rare maternal kindness towards her, sitting with her and petting her hair away from her face until she fell into a deep slumber.

"She's asleep, Professor Dumbledore," Madam Pomfrey said as she stood up from the bed. She pulled her wand from a deep pocket in her white apron and used it to send all the shreds of the linens and pillows towards a corner to be vanished later.

Professor Dumbledore turned towards the three students and two adults behind him. "I believe a cup of hot tea in my office is called for. Bill, I can explain what I need from you there, and we can speak without worrying we'll disturb her."

Ron and Hermione watched the adults walk towards the door, but Harry was still looking at the sleeping girl. To their surprise, Professor Dumbledore paused and motioned the three of them to follow him.

"I told you, Harry," Ron said quietly as they walked towards Professor Dumbledore's office. "She's starkers. What did you do to her to set her off like that, Hermione?"

Hermione slowed, forcing the two boys to walk at her pace, leaving enough room for them not to be overheard. "It was the stupid bloody newspaper." Her voice shook with anger. "I don't know what I was thinking. Just because she couldn't speak, I must have thought she wouldn't be able to read or think or anything."

Ron looked at Hermione with a shocked expression on his face. "Such profanity, Hermione!"

"Knock it off, Ron," Hermione hissed. "Now is not the time! I'm so mad at myself I could just spit."

"How could the newspaper have set her off?" Harry asked as they turned the corner and walked down the stairs to the Headmaster's office. His mind was spinning. There was just so much going on in his head. There were the sessions with Dumbledore, trying to get the lost memory from Slughorn, wandering what Malfoy was up to in the Room of the Requirement and now this. Not to mention the way a certain female Weasley continued to pop up in his thoughts at odd times.

"It must have been the date. I can not even imagine how I would feel if tomorrow I woke up and someone was reading the _Daily Prophet_ in front of me and right on the front page it screamed at me fifty years had passed."

"It still isn't reason enough to trash the infirmary," Ron said. "Where's the newspaper, anyway?"

Harry nodded in agreement as they passed Ginny without seeing her


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three Little Girl Lost **

"It must be something else, Hermione," Ron said as they continued down the hallway. "Where's the newspaper? Let's see what else is on it."

Ginny stepped out of the shadows and watched the three of them walk away, just as she had many times before. Hermione answered Ron, but their voices faded as they walked through the long hallway towards the Headmaster's office. She felt a flash of long-remembered jealousy rush through her. It wasn't fair she was still excluded from them after everything they had done together last year in the Department of Mysteries. She was proud of what she was able to accomplish fighting the Death Eaters, and Harry had never even thanked her!

But then, all she had suffered was a broken ankle, not like Hermione and Ron, who – _Stop it_, she told herself. _You're being an insufferable prat_.

But it should be different for her; she was Ron's sister and Harry –

_That train of thought needs to be halted right now, Ginerva_, she thought firmly. Harry barely knew she existed and had never thought of her that way.

_That's not true_, her mind rebelled once again. There was last Sunday afternoon to consider. Ginny leaned back on the wall, her mind floating back to when she was waking from a nap on the sofa in the common room. It was such a lovely dream she was having, one she never wanted to end. But she could feel something pulling her back to the real world. She stretched like a cat lying under a sun-warmed window before opening her eyes.

Harry sat across from her in one of the arm chairs, with the oddest expression on his face. His legs were crossed at the ankles, and he was looking at her as if he had never seen her before.

Ginny's hand instantly flew to her mouth, nonchalantly checking for moisture. She glanced down at the pillow, relief coursing through her.

Smiling softly as she burrowed back down into the pillow, she asked, "I'm sorry, was I snoring?" She tucked a strand of sleep-mussed hair behind her ear.

Harry looked as if he was on the verge of saying something when Crookshanks jumped up into his lap, tearing his gaze from her face and breaking the moment. Dean also chose that moment to come in through the portrait hole. "No, you weren't snoring," he said uncomfortably before standing and putting the cat in his vacated space. "I have to go find Ron." He gave her one last inscrutable look before heading towards the stairs.

A flash of annoyance coursed through her and she resisted the urge to push her boyfriend away as he sat down beside her. Ginny watched Harry's retreating back before she closed her eyes and shook her head in bewilderment. Just how was she supposed to interpret that? Damn interruptions, Ginny thought sullenly.

Matters were not resolved the next time she saw him. She tried to catch his eye, wanting to ask if everything was okay, determined she was not going to act like an immature school girl, but he had acted as if nothing had happened. To Ginny, this meant he barely spoke or looked at her, even though she tried her best to sit down across from him in the Great Hall whenever she had the chance. She was sure he was watching her, but every time she'd look down towards him, he was looking the other way.

_Nothing had happened, so what were you expecting_? The tiny voice in her head whispered. _Oh, shut it_! Ginny thought furiously. She pounded her fist on the stone wall behind her. It wasn't fair! She was over him and had been for a year.

How could he make her fall in love with him all over again with one look?

He was magic and myth, this Boy Who Lived, the one who disappeared after defeating the Dark Lord when he just a year old. He was the boy who grew up among his Muggle relatives not knowing how special he was to the wizarding world. He had no idea of the celebrations that were held in his honor for defeating You-Know-Who.

He was Harry Potter, and she had always been in love with him. How could she, the little girl who knew of him from the time she could walk, ever hope to catch his eye?

He was the boy who saved her life and he was her brother's best friend.

So many of her sleeping dreams centered on Harry, Ginny thought uncomfortably, including the one she awoke from last Sunday. It was the recurring dream of Harry finally cupping her cheek in his palm and lowering his warm mouth to hers.

Even last year when she swore she was over him, he still invaded her dreams more than she cared to admit. Ginny bowed her head, sighing deeply. She played with a tendril of copper and brushed the ends of her hair across her lips, reliving the sensation of the kiss from her dream. She'd been kissed before, but Harry's dream kiss had seemed more like a memory than dream.

How could she do this to herself again? She didn't want to love him, but she had no choice.

He was just Harry, and he broke her heart every day.

A gamut of perplexing emotions assaulted her confused mind all at once, and she allowed herself a moment to swim in the sensations before deciding to head back to the common room. She squared her shoulders and walked into the hallway, ducking out of the way as a summoned newspaper soared towards her. She watched it as it flew overhead and out of sight around the corner.

"All right, Ginny?"

She jumped at the sound of the voice, her hand instantly going to her back pocket and her wand. "Dean," she said as she lowered it, her other hand coming up to rest on her heart. "You nearly frightened me half to death. What are you doing here?" She silently willed her heart to slow. The irony of the situation was not lost on her, her boyfriend coming upon her while she was thinking only of Harry.

"We were going to meet in the library after Quidditch practice. I waited outside the changing room for a half an hour."

Ginny's face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, Dean," she said, reaching out for his arm. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

To her surprise, Dean shrugged off her hand and his face clouded over. "You've been forgetting a lot of things lately where I'm concerned."

Annoyance coursed through her body, and she put her hands to her hips to confront him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You've been distracted all week. I don't think we've said more than ten words to one another since last Saturday night and when we do speak, all we've been doing is arguing with one another." Dean looked down at the floor and then back at her. "You haven't been sitting with me at meals." He paused for a moment before asking, "When's the last time we shared a kiss?"

"That's absurd," she said as she pounded her fist against her jeans-clad leg. "I haven't forgotten you at all, I've just been distracted!"

_So true_, the little voice in Ginny's head whispered. Distracted by a certain sixth year boy who was not her boyfriend. _Shut UP_! She told herself firmly.

Whatever Dean was going to say in retort was cut off by a drawling voice behind her. "Well, well, if it isn't a Weasley and her boyfriend." There was a chorus of low chuckles from behind her, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to face Draco Malfoy.

"Always so brave when you're surrounded by your goons, aren't you, Malfoy?" she said as she brought her wand up and pointed it at his chest. A curious sort of calm came over her as she flashed him a look of icy disdain. "We've already been through the Bat-Bogey Hex, what shall we try this time?"

"Ah, Weasley," Malfoy said, smiling maliciously. "Take care, will you? I would certainly hate for anything you do to me now to affect your future."

"Whatever are you going on about?" Ginny asked impatiently.

"Don't know yet? Well, I certainly don't want to be the one to ruin the surprise."

Crabbe and Goyle smiled menacingly at her from behind Draco Malfoy.

A slow sickle of ice began to form in the pit of her stomach. What could he mean? Was he testing her? Provoking her? Well she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of reacting to his taunts. His father was presently in Azkaban; how would Malfoy know anything of future?

"Ginny, let's go," Dean said quietly behind her.

"Could you imagine what will become of your family? When the Dark Lord takes over, I mean?" Malfoy continued, ignoring Dean. "Panhandling and charity would certainly be in your future. Not that you're far above panhandling already." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him and Malfoy reached for his wand, but Ginny stopped him with a wave of her own.

"I wouldn't if I were you," she said, strong and clear. "I'll have the three of you hexed within an inch of your lives before your wands clear your robes."

Dean brought his wand from his pocket and moved so he faced off with the three Slytherins beside Ginny.

"You're a nasty little ferret, Malfoy," Ginny said with a slight smile she knew would infuriate Malfoy. "No hex invented yet is rotten enough for the likes of you. Nothing you could do or say would ever make me fear for me or my family's safety. Especially since your own Death Eater father is locked in Azkaban." She cocked her head to the side and smiled cruelly. "Has he gone insane yet?"

"You're not fit to lick my father's boots!" Malfoy's face went red as he went for his wand. She felt a welcome rush of guilty pleasure at Malfoy's discomfort. He loved provoking a reaction by his unpleasant words and actions, but he reacted like the spoilt child he was when it was his turn. Ginny reacted with the reflexes of a hungry cat that had just spotted a nice, plump mouse to eat. She threw back her head, and shouted, "_Everte Statum_!"

Her spell lifted all three of the Slytherins off their feet as they flew down the hallway. They landed on their backs with an audible thump and groans of pain. She stalked towards them, jinxing all three of them with another spell. Insect feelers and mandibles sprouted from their heads and mouths as they attempted to yell at her.

"Let's go," Dean said as he grasped Ginny's arm possessively, halting her progress and pulling her off balance. He dragged her down the hallway away from the three boys who were attempting to get up with their pincers clicking in anger.

"What are you doing?" Ginny snapped when Dean had wrenched her around the corner and pushed her towards the stone wall. "Let go of me!" She wrenched her arm out of Dean's grip.

"I was trying to keep you from doing something you would regret!" he said, not bothering to hide the barely-controlled anger in his voice.

"How could I ever regret hexing that little toad and his friends –"

"I was trying to keep you from getting expelled!" Dean interrupted vehemently, his voice rising along with hers.

"That hex is going to wear off in a quarter of an hour. They won't report me," Ginny shouted back at him. "I don't need you to protect me, Dean. I can do quite well on my own, thank you."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

All at once, it was just too much.

Ginny had enough with everything. She had had enough with Dean and his constant presence around her. Everything seemed to pile on at once, and she just wanted it to stop. She brought her fingers to her forehead and rubbed the skin hard. A pounding headache was beginning to throb behind her eyes.

The anger she felt for Malfoy and Dean faded as she realized she was just so tired. Tired of her frayed-at-the-end emotions, tired of having a boyfriend, tired of wondering what Harry was doing or feeling.

She was tired of wondering if Harry thought of her at all.

What she really needed was just a break from it all. "I don't think…"

"What?" Dean asked, his arms falling to his sides. He took a step towards her and took her hand in his.

Ginny looked up at him, wondering what he was thinking right then. Did he realize their time together as a couple was coming to an end? How could she break his heart? Would she break his heart? Dean had never considered her girlfriend material until Ginny decided one night last year to change his mind. She remembered with a slight surge of pride how it felt the first time she had kissed him, the power she felt course through her when she looked up at his closed eyes, his lips still pursed for more. Dean was a wonderful boyfriend and if she had never met Harry he would be someone she could see herself spending the rest of her life with. But the truth of the matter was he wasn't enough for her. Dean liked routine, and predictability had never been one of her strongest points.

Ginny was at a loss on how to say what she had been thinking and what she knew was right. His hand was so warm, and she resisted linking her fingers between his. She looked back down at the stone floor and said in a clear voice, "I don't think we should see one another anymore."

"Look at me when you're breaking up with me, Ginny," Dean said quietly. "You could at least give me that."

Ginny brought her head up, awkwardly clearing her throat. "I don't think we're good for each other. You want more from me than I'm willing to give and you deserve better."

"Because there has always been someone else for you," Dean said quite calmly, still holding her hand.

Ginny shifted uneasily and leaned back on the wall, uncomfortable with the fact he spoke the truth. Not knowing what to say humbled her, and she looked away from him. How could she deny how she was feeling? She didn't want to hurt him; she always considered him a good friend, but what they were doing, what she was doing to him by being his girlfriend diminished their friendship. She did not want to keep the relationship together just for the sake of appearances; it wasn't fair to him.

It would have been much easier if she could feel for Dean what she felt for Harry.

Ginny swallowed with difficulty and finally found her voice. "I'm sorry, Dean. You deserve someone who will be able to give you everything I can't," she said, closing her eyes. She could imagine how angry and hurt he must be with her.

"Or won't," Dean said sadly before sighing deeply. "I know you're sorry," he said finally, dropping her hand from his own.

After a few moments, Ginny opened her eyes, surprised to find herself alone in the corridor. She never heard him walk away. She slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

Head in her hands, she stared at the floor until her vision blurred and she felt herself hating Harry just a little bit. Would falling in love with Harry again be worth it? Or was she just setting herself up for more heartbreak?

The pounding headache was beating with a savage fierceness now. Closing her eyes and dropping her head to her knees, she could feel her pulse throbbing in her ears. She wasn't up to going back to the common room and facing her school mates, not knowing what Dean had said, if anything. She might as well head to the hospital wing. A headache tonic and a nice lie down was just what she needed. Maybe she would skip dinner too and be able to get upstairs to her dorm room while everyone else was eating.

Ginny stood up, wiping the dust from the back of her jeans with her hand. Decision made, she squared her shoulders and headed to the infirmary.

As she slipped through the door unseen, Madam Pomfrey came out from behind a curtain by the last bed in the ward. She walked briskly to her office as Ginny gingerly closed the door behind her. An odd twinge of disappointment fluttered in her chest, knowing someone else was already lying in the bed she had come to think of as Harry's. It was really silly and she knew it, but her old habits seemed to be rearing their ugly heads lately. She would have liked to lie in Harry's hospital bed. She blew out her breath in a rush. The wisps of hair above her eyebrows moved swiftly with the puff of air. Stop being so pathetic, she thought, it's just a bed.

Taking a look around the infirmary, she noticed subtle differences all around her. Madam Pomfrey's ward was always kept so clean she could eat right off the floor, but something was just a bit off today. It was like a word or thought right on the tip of your tongue, gone when you tried to concentrate on it too hard. Here and there remnants of fabric littered the floor. Ginny stepped forward and felt a grittiness grind underneath her shoes. Looking down, she saw the floor was covered with sparkling bits of glass, the almost imperceptible dots of light glittering from the reflection of the candles hovering above her. The beds were all stripped of their linen, new sheets and blankets folded on the ends, waiting to be put back on the mattresses. She thought back to the snippet of conversation she had heard between her brother, Harry and Hermione and realized something had happened in here.

What had Ron said? He said something about someone trashing the infirmary.

Ginny raised an eyebrow and wondered just who it was behind the curtain by the windows. Were they the one who trashed the infirmary?

No shadows moved on the curtains, and Ginny bit her bottom lip, thinking hard. Curiosity won out and pulled her towards the bed. She looked over her shoulder towards Madam Pomfrey's office. The nurse was bending over her desk, a quill flying over an open book as she wrote her case notes from today's events.

Ginny looked towards the windows as the shadows gathered behind the gray clouds. The sun was setting. If she wanted to have a peek, it would have to be now. Before long, Madam Pomfrey would be coming through the wards to light the lamps.

With a small smile of accomplishment, she realized Malfoy and his cronies weren't here, which meant her spell had worked just as she wanted it to. She had only just learned the hex over the summer and had been lying to Dean when she said she knew they would revert back to normal after a short period of time.

Walking towards the bed, she snuck glances at the office, not wanting to be disturbed but knowing if she was caught, she did have a legitimate reason to be there. Even though she had to admit her headache was not nearly as bad as it was before. Ginny moved silently behind the curtain. The girl lying on the bed was someone she had never seen before. There were many students at Hogwarts she had never noticed before, but this girl stirred a feeling of something indescribable deep inside of her. Something was uncoiling in her mind, and it was dark and oily.

"I know you," said a cold voice from deep in her subconscious. Ginny began to tremble in icy fear as a memory was called, clouding her mind as it began to play behind her open eyes.

This memory was not her own.

The library opened before her, the long tables filled with students studying and talking quietly. The torches burned brightly, their flames dancing against the stone walls and dark windows. She was standing in the shadows of the stacks, to the left of a couple sitting in profile.

Ginny winced as she recognized the boy sitting there. It was Harry.

But yet, it wasn't.

She cocked her head to the side and she gazed hard at the boy. This Harry was different from her Harry; his hair was much shorter and he wasn't wearing glasses. Was this Harry's father? He leaned forward and whispered something Ginny couldn't hear.

The girl sitting in front of him looked up from her parchment and smiled, her face transforming from plain prettiness into one of stunning beauty. She wore an old-fashioned hair style, one Ginny recognized from old pictures of her mother's. The girl wore it parted on the side, swept away from her face and held back with two black clips. The ends curled under in a roll and lay right below her shoulders. Her lips were as red as rubies, her eyes dark in the torchlight.

A noise from behind Ginny startled both her and the girl. They turned to the sound.

A panic Ginny had only known once before in her life welled up inside of her and threatened to throw her over the edge of reason. She felt as if her breath was cut off and she struggled to breathe. It can't be him, her mind screamed.

Tom Riddle stood behind her, his arrogantly handsome face stony as he stared at the pair in front of him. He was much clearer and firmer than he was the first and last time Ginny had seen him as he walked out of the open diary lying on her bed.

She had stood in the middle of her dorm room, too frightened to move, staring at him in horror as he loomed in front of her. She couldn't believe it was possible for this entity to be gaining power from her. Every time she spilled ink across the page, all her deepest thoughts and secrets, it had become stronger. Tom Riddle had fed off of her, remaining her 'best friend' and begging her to write more, as she became weaker and started losing time. Unnerved by the charming smile he wore when she first saw him, she stumbled backwards. She tripped over the rug and fell to the floor.

He was more ghost than man the first time she had ever seen him, semi-transparent and blurry around the edges. He loomed over her and held his hand out to her and it was the last thing she remembered before awakening in the Chamber of Secrets with Harry kneeling over her, smiling in relief.

But it was unmistakably he who cleared his throat, causing the girl to look up, and her smile faded from her face. She said something to Not-Harry and he turned to look towards Riddle, his face darkening in anger. Another boy come up alongside of Tom and turned to look at the couple sitting at the table. His face flushed in anger under his white blond hair. "What is she doing?"

"Calm down, Abaxas, I believe she is tutoring him."

"She has belonged to me since the day she was born female. I believe I have the right to be angry at her if I choose."

Tom Riddle turned towards his companion and gave him a look which caused the other boy to move away from him. "I've decided," said the boy.

"Have you?" Tom asked, still staring at the girl.

"I will use him for my Horcrux."

Finally Tom's expression changed. Cold fury replaced his aloof look of boredom. He spun on Abaxas and pulled out his wand. His voice did not rise, but his anger was plain. "How dare you speak of it here? I was a fool to tell you of it at all. You dare risk my displeasure? Have you forgotten what I'm capable of? I may decide to change my mind and you use as MY Horcurx. Get out of my sight before I lose my temper and decide you are not worth it to live."

Ginny felt as if her knees had turned to rubber, and trying to scream, she realized her voice was gone. How could she be here? How could Tom Riddle be standing behind her? Harry had banished him from the Chamber of Secrets in her first year! He had killed the Basilisk and then stabbed the diary with the Basilisk's broken fang. Riddle had disappeared as the memory of him bled from the battered leather book.

Ginny reached out a hand to the stacks, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat and ragged breathing. Even as frightened as she was at seeing him again, a flash of white-hot anger spread through her body. Tom Riddle had pretended to be her friend and pretended to care about her. She longed to have her wand in her hand so she could hex him until he was unrecognizable as a human being.

The girl was busy gathering her belongings and placing them in a rucksack while Not-Harry spoke low and quickly to her. She was shaking her head at him, saying something in a whisper before looking into his face and touching his hand briefly. Not-Harry stood, his arms crossing his chest in a manner that clearly said he was not happy about the girl leaving.

But, but, Ginny's mind screamed, this can't be happening! That boy couldn't be Harry's father, not if Tom Riddle was there. Harry's father was the same age as Professor Lupin and Sirius. If he was not Harry's father, could it be his grandfather? she wondered in miserable confusion.

The girl looked down at the floor and her pale face swam before Ginny's eyes as she realized she was the same girl lying in the infirmary bed. Ginny spared a glance behind her and realized Tom's face was glowing in cold triumph. He flicked his head towards the girl, motioning her out of the library and into the hallway. His bitter smile fading from his face briefly as Not-Harry stopped the girl and touched her arm.

"I'll be fine, Henry," the girl said as she pulled her rucksack over her shoulder and this time, Ginny heard her. It was low, husky and breathless. "I'll meet you in the common room in an hour, all right?"

Henry began to gather his books, parchments and quills. "I want to come with you."

"Please, Henry, don't do this. I won't be long. Don't make him angry with you."

"Why? So what if he's Head Boy. He's a Slytherin. He can't do anything to me."

The girl shook her head and pulled him by the arm to face him. She looked up at him and Ginny could see her eyes were vibrantly blue. Whatever she said, it was low enough and strong enough to make Henry sink back into his wooden chair. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her retreating back.

Tom spared the girl one last look before turning and striding from the library. The girl followed behind him, her head bowed, but her eyes were burning with hatred as she stared at his back.

Well, girl, Ginny thought as her head cleared, that makes two of us.

With a rush of color and air, she was back in the infirmary, in her own time. Ginny whirled out from behind the curtain, barely taking notice of Madam Pomfrey's startled glance as she dropped to her knees and became violently ill.


	5. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

_**Fear, Itself **_

_**Undated excerpt from the Journal of Adria Thornwood **_

_What have I done? _

_What have I done? _

_How could I have – no, I mustn't think of it any longer. I cannot. _

_How – _

_Stop, I must stop! _

_How long have I been gone? I've lost all track of time; it has no meaning for me now. _

_Why can't I stay here forever? I wish I could stay in this room forever. I have no desire to see their faces as they look on me with pity. Shame has burned a hole in my soul the size of the sun. _

_Will they be able to piece together where I was? How I was lured from my bed by him? I can't tell them, I shan't tell them! _

_I can't think of it anymore, but I can't stop thinking about it! _

_How long was I in that cold, damp room? Hours, days or weeks, it's all beginning to run together in my mind. Why did they allow me to escape? I'm not fool enough to believe I could have accomplished it on my own. _

_I'm so cold. I'll never be warm again. My hands are trembling so much I can hardly use the quill. How can I allow myself comfort and warmth when he's lying alone and cold? _

_There is no one I can tell what I know, no one I can turn to. Who would believe me? _

_How could I have been so blind, so trusting? He wrote; I ran to his side. It was so easy for me to be fooled; I never expected what I was going to find. _

_Never did I suspect what he was involved in. How could he have betrayed me, our family? _

_I never expected how deep he was with them. Neither did anyone else, he said while he watched Croup and Vandemar torturing me under the order of their master, that's what made it so brilliant! _

_Well, where has your brilliance gotten you? _

_How could he have stood over me with that cruel smile on his face, watching as I crawled towards him, begging him to stop and crying out for him to help me? Who murdered my brother and left this evil twin in his place? When did he turn the final corner to his undoing? What pushed him over the edge? _

_I don't understand! _

_There are so many questions running though my mind, over and over again endlessly. _

_Why won't it stop? Oh Merlin, make it stop! _

_I must run. I want to run, to hide, and to disappear. _

_Where can I go? Where can I go? They're watching me. I can feel their eyes on me even as I hide beneath my bed. I just want to disappear forever! _

_Can I do what my mind cries must be done? _

_No, I can't. I can't—I'm mad! I must be going mad! _

_I'm a coward. _

_I have no choice. I must do what he asked of me. _

_Riddle said he'd kill my parents if I don't. I believe him. _

_I'm so cold. I can't stop shaking. _

_What am I going to do? _

_Did Father know what Gabriel was involved in? Part of me can't fathom how he didn't know, could he have been as blind as I was? _

_I don't know. I can never say anything; I can trust no one. _

_From the moment I awoke on the steps, voices run over and over again in my mind. "Where have you been? Where have you been? What has happened?" _

_Stop it! Stop it! Why won't they stop? _

_I can't speak. My throat closes at the thought of speaking his name aloud. Their voices, why won't they go away? I can't think anymore. _

_I can never tell them. How could I tell them? They won't understand. They'd never forgive me! _

_Where is my wand? What has Tibby done with my wand? I need it, want it, where is it? _

_I must find my wand. _

_I have to stop before I start crying again. I must find my wand! _

_I was supposed to be safe here! _

_Why do I feel I'll never be safe again? How can they expect me…How can they demand me to…Why him?_

_I think I'm going insane. I must be going insane. This should never have happened. Why me? _

_Why me? _

_The heaviness of the wand in my hand offers me no comfort. _

_I'm so tired, but I must stay awake. I can't allow myself sleep because what if they lied? What if there is no plot, no boy to watch over, no Heir of Slytherin to report to? What if they come for me while I'm asleep? _

_I hate him. I never wanted this. How could he be so brainwashed to believe Riddle will continue to treat him as an equal. _

_I'm a pawn. I'm nothing more then an expendable pawn, used for ammunition. _

_I hate him. I HATE HIM! _

_But, but I don't mean for it to happen! It won't be my fault! _

_It won't be my fault. If I continue to think it for long enough, will I begin to believe it? _

_When will this end? _

_I'll never be free of them. Would I be better off dead like him? Why can't I be strong enough to end it all on my own? _

_How could he say he loved me and hurt me so? _

_Where can I hide? There is nowhere for me to go. There isn't anywhere I can hide where they can't find me. There's no one I can turn to; he made sure of that. He laughed when I said I would run. _

"_Would you, little Adria," Lord Voldemort said, putting his hand on the top of my head. "Would you run and be able to live with yourself knowing the blood of your murdered parents was on your hands?" _

_Oh Merlin, I can still feel the touch of his hand on me. I need to wash, need to get rid of the feeling of him and the blood from my hands. I think I'm going to be sick. _

_I'm going to be sick. _

_My tears are staining this page and my hands, oh my hands, they hurt so much. _

_It hurts to breathe. I can't catch my breath. What have their spells done to me? _

_What have I done? _

_Why can't I stop the tears from falling! _

_Oh, Merlin, help me. _


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five Concerning the Matter of Adria Thornwood **

Professor Dumbledore opened the door with the griffin knocker, and ushered them into the dimly-lit office.

Fawkes sat on his perch beside the door, long scarlet feathers dropping from his tail. He looked the worst Harry had ever seen him. "Hello, Fawkes," Harry said as he gently stroked the phoenix's featherless head.

"I've been telling him for days to move on, but as always, he sits and waits until the last possible moment," said Dumbledore from behind Harry. "I believe the rebirthing process must cause him pain, as he always delays until he resembles nothing more then an extremely ugly plucked chicken."

The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses along the curved walls heralded his return as Dumbledore moved to conjure extra chairs in front of his desk. They landed with a soft thump alongside of the two currently in front of Dumbledore's claw-footed desk. Harry watched as he moved the Pensieve from his desk to the cabinet, taking care to close and lock the doors.

"Never in all my time at Hogwarts have I seen such destruction of one of our rooms," Professor McGonagall said as she walked towards the headmaster's desk. "And without a wand!"

"Our kind has always been able to produce magic without a wand under extreme duress, as I'm sure Harry himself can attest, Minerva," said Dumbledore as he looked at Harry meaningfully over his half-moon spectacles.

Harry straightened his shoulders under the headmaster's glance. He knew about wandless magic, and had performed some in the past, that much was true. But never had he destroyed a room with it. All he did was somehow transfer himself to the top of a chimney and make the glass disappear from a snake display on Dudley's birthday, many years ago. _Well, there was the Aunt Marge incident_, Harry thought, suppressing a smile even though he couldn't help but think she deserved what she got considering how horrible she had been to him while he was growing up.

"Yes, I know," Professor McGonagall said with a slight nod, her lips still pinched in a thin line. "But the power she displayed, Albus! Why would she have destroyed the Hospital Wing?"

Professor Dumbledore went to the windows and pulled aside the curtains, letting in the waning gray light from outside. Shadows in the room were not dispelled in the slightest as the sun was setting behind the gray gloom covering the sky. With a wave of his wand, the numerous candles above their heads flickered to life, banishing the slowly encroaching shadows along the curves of the room. "Well, Minerva, I do believe it would not have made a difference what room Miss Thornwood awoke in. I would imagine she felt her outburst had been justified."

"Justified?" Professor McGonagall said in disbelief. "How could she justify shattering the glass in every single window in the Hospital Wing?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Visualize if you will, finding yourself in her situation, at the school you attended, but surrounded by no one you recognize. Now imagine you are suffering from a curse such as hers, and you might be surprised at the power you could wield with just your two hands."

Professor McGonagall sniffed as she moved to an end chair, her skirts and robes swishing gently around her ankles as she sat down. "I suppose you are right, but still," she said, bringing a hand up to briefly touch the perfectly coiffed bun at the back of her head. "What could she have been thinking?"

"She may not have been thinking at all," Bill said from the back of the room where he was still watching scarlet feathers fall from the phoenix's tail. "I would say it looked as if she were operating purely on primal instinct; the fight or flight reflex. She may have believed she could escape through the windows. When she realized she would not be able to use that route, she resorted to hiding in the cupboard, hoping she would not be found."

Harry looked over at Hermione who was standing close to Ron. The muscles around her mouth tightened into a thin frown. She looked as if she would rather be in detention with Snape then attending this meeting in the headmaster's office. He tried to catch her eye, but she was looking down at the faded carpet, avoiding the eyes of everyone else in the room. He watched as her hands fluttered restlessly to her hair, trying to smooth the bushy tendrils escaping her braid.

Ron met Harry's eyes over her head. He nodded at Harry and went over to her. "Come on," Ron said gently as he put his arm around her shoulders. "It'll be okay, Hermione." He led her to a chair and waited until she sat down to look at his eldest brother.

Bill caught his eye and walked over to Ron, clamping a hand on his shoulder in hello, before turning quickly to shake Harry's hand. He leaned in to say hello to Hermione who nodded at him before he took the other end chair. Once Harry and Ron were settled in the two remaining middle chairs, Professor Dumbledore summoned an old iron teakettle from a low shelf behind his desk and with a flick of his wand, steam began to wisp from the spout in operatic form.

"Tea?" he asked and without waiting for replies, he conjured a silver tray and enough porcelain cups for everyone. Professor Dumbledore took a tin from a drawer and scooped a healthy portion of tea leaves into the kettle. He rested his elbows on the desk, taking care not to jostle his bad hand as he allowed the tea to steep.

"Bill, you may have already gathered we believe the girl below in the infirmary is suffering from a curse," Dumbledore said as he looked soberly at the eldest Weasley brother.

Bill nodded, and said, "I could feel it as soon as I entered the room. I won't be able to fully grasp the intricacies of the spell until she is in a better frame of mind. It interferes with trying to break it down, if I'm able to at all. I've never encountered a curse like this before. It's very primitive in construction but at the same time quite complicated." He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "Her tongue is missing, yes?"

Dumbledore nodded, sliding the tray to him. He lifted the lid of the kettle to sniff the liquid inside. He nodded slightly and poured the amber tea into the delicate cups. With one hand he smoothed down his long beard as he used his wand to float towards everyone a delicate teacup. Only once the tea was served and the tray returned to wherever he conjured it from did he settle back into his chair with his own cup. The wizard in the portrait behind his desk looked down at the adults and students with unmasked curiosity.

Dumbledore glanced at a portrait to the right of his desk. "I know all of you must have many questions regarding our guest, and Professor Dippet, I hope you will be able to fill us in on some of the details of when Adria first joined us here at Hogwarts." All heads looked up to the portrait of the former Headmaster of Hogwarts above Dumbledore's desk. Harry recognized him from the vision Tom Riddle had shown him in his second year. Armando Dippet was a small, wizened wizard who only had a few wisps of gray hair floating on his bald head. Professor Dippet sat up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. "You have sent an owl to my person, as I requested, Professor Dumbledore?" he asked in a shaky voice.

Dumbledore nodded his head. "I did, and he deferred to you on this matter. He stated your portrait was commissioned soon after the events of that year and felt you would recall the circumstances much clearer than he at this time."

The portrait of the former headmaster bowed his head briefly. "Then I am ready to be of service when you need me."

Harry looked at the portrait incredulously. Professor Dippet was old when he was painted more than fifty years ago. _No wonder he couldn't answer their questions directly. He must be positively ancient by now,_ Harry thought.

Dumbledore looked at everyone in front of him in turn. "Now, what I have to say in regards to the girl in the Hospital Wing may come as a bit of a surprise to you, Bill," he said as his mouth curled in a slight smile. "Or not, depending on how the keepers of Gringotts have used your skills."

Bill shifted in his seat. "I gathered from your owl you considered her a bit of an anomaly."

"Ah, yes. An anomaly is very good way to describe Adria. She is a girl out of place in time. Born in 1927 and here today looking as if she were a contemporary to the students sitting alongside of you. The last any of us heard of her was in 1944, when she disappeared from Hogwarts."

Bill leaned forward in his chair. "Has she used a time turner?"

"No, we've already ruled out the time turners as an option," McGonagall said, shaking her head.

Bill nodded as he glanced at Ron sitting next to him. "Please forgive me, but I'm not sure how my brother and his friends figure into this conundrum, Professor Dumbledore."

"They were the first to discover her return, Bill. I believe they found her in the hallway leading to the Gryffindor common room."

At Harry and Ron's nod, Dumbledore picked up his wand, twirling it in his uninjured fingers for a moment before laying it back down on the desk. "If you will allow me, I would like to give you all some insight on what the world was like for us back in 1944. Professor McGonagall remembers all too well, I'm sure.

"You are already aware of the trials the school was presented with towards the end of term in 1944. The heir of Slytherin had opened the Chamber of Secrets and a Muggle born student died. Of course, now we know for sure Tom Riddle was the wizard who opened the Chamber of Secrets. He was the one who controlled the basilisk that year and not Hagrid as nearly everyone was led to believe. After Hagrid was expelled, the attacks stopped and the school year ended. When the new term began in September of 1944, Professor Dippet and the rest of us teachers were ready to put the horrors of the previous year behind us and move on with our students and our studies.

"What you may not realize was the Muggle world was in the final thralls of a World War. Germany was being led by a fanatical leader who believed there was one true race to rule the world, a race he deemed pure. A master race, if you will. A race of blond-haired blue-eyed people who he felt was superior humans in everyway. Any other breed of individual that fell shy of his ideal, especially in religion, was corralled into camps and put to death. It was a very dark and bleak time, even for the wizarding world," Dumbledore looked down at his hands spread over his desk. "Wizards were a bit removed from the fighting, of course, but it affected us all the same. However, I am getting a head of myself a bit. I feel I should travel even further a bit in time, to when the First World War ended.

"In the years following 1917, there was an influx of Muggle children born who showed magical promise. Their names were written down in the Magical Registrar as every magical child is, and once they were of age, they were invited to join us here at Hogwarts."

Harry noticed Hermione's head shoot up as Dumbledore continued to speak, and she was listening attentively. It seemed her love of knowledge overpowered her fear of being in trouble. Of course this was part of her heritage as a Muggle-born and Harry realized she probably had relatives who partook in the fighting. But I probably did too, Harry thought with sadness for his lost heritage. His mother, Lily Potter, had been a born a Muggle.

Harry leaned forward to place his untouched teacup on the edge of Dumbledore's desk. He would have bet ten Galleons this piece of narration would not be found in Hogwarts, A History and would never be taught in Professor Binn's History of Magic class.

"During the time of the Second War, when it became apparent more and more Muggle children began to attend Hogwarts, a ripple went through our wizarding community. There were quite a few of the old families who believed allowing their kind into our school and our life was a travesty," Professor Dumbledore paused to sip his tea.

"Even some of our more progressive families secretly believed the affiliation between Muggles and Wizards would come to no good end. What a few of our oldest families feared was by allowing Muggles into our world, we were inviting more of them to learn of us and possibly infiltrate us to use our talents for evil. Even some of our Council members believed it undermined the Statute of Secrecy to allow the continuation of Muggle students to attend Hogwarts.

"At this time, rumors of a group of Dark wizards believing the doctrine of the German leader was something to be upheld began to spread. Rumors began to spread of their wishes to align themselves with Hitler, if only to help rid the world of Muggles."

Dumbledore paused and looked down at his cup. He picked up the kettle and poured more steaming tea into his cup. "When the attacks on Muggles began, at first no one paid them much mind because of the horrors the Muggles were inflicting on themselves during the war." He picked up his tea cup and blew across the top before continuing.

"I remember," Ron breathed in the silence.

All eyes shifted to him, Dumbledore's expression had not changed although the skin around his eyes seemed to tighten. Harry and the others looked at Ron in shock.

Ron looked from side to side. "What?"

Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow over his glasses as he lowered his cup slowly. "Indeed," he said evenly. "You remember what, Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh," Ron's face flushed a deep red. "It's those brains. You know, from the fight with the Death Eaters last year in the Department of Mysteries. Sometimes I get flashes in my head," he brought his hand up and waved it around his ear. "Memories, I guess. Not mine, I mean, but they're there all the same. When you were speaking, I saw the bombs dropping on London in my mind as if I was there, standing outside watching them fall."

Dumbledore stroked his long white beard with his hand. "Do you have these flashes of memories, often?"

"No. Well sometimes," Ron amended. "Usually a word or a scent will bring one on, but they've been pretty manageable. I don't have nightmares," Ron's eyes shifted to Harry. "They don't upset my day or classes or anything."

Dumbledore looked at Ron with an odd expression on his face. He pursed his lips tightly for a moment and it was as if he was weighing his words carefully. A decision made, he shifted forward in his seat before speaking. "If you begin to notice they are coming upon you with increasing frequency or change in their tone, if they are no longer benign to say, please notify Madam Pomfrey or myself immediately, Mr. Weasley."

Ron's flush crept upwards to his ears, making the tips of them gleam red. Harry saw he was absently rubbing the scars he still carried under the arms of his shirt. "All right."

Harry threw him a questioning look. Ron shrugged and cleared his throat as he looked at Hermione who was giving him quite a dirty look. She sniffed at him once, as if to let Ron know they would be talking about this later and then turned back to Professor Dumbledore.

"As I was saying, Muggles were being attacked. Soon it became apparent the Muggle families who were targeted had children who attended this school. The attacks were tame at first, as it seemed the wizards who wished to cause mayhem had no real direction to follow. No lives were lost, but many Muggle-born children were called home.

"When the children began to leave, it was then we began to question the very nature of these attacks. After the first murder was performed, we realized it was time to step in. We knew then as we know now there have always been certain families who cling to the old magic, the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall was called in to work for the Ministry, putting her talents to work for them in her Animagus form. Through her, the Ministry was trying to infiltrate some of the pureblood families, to glean information from who came to visit them and what meetings they were holding."

"And what a thankless job that was," McGonagall sniffed. "Half the time I was chased off by dogs and other times I was taken in by children and banished to nurseries."

Dumbledore nodded at Professor McGonagall. "Then we received a very lucky break. Professor McGonagall learned this small group of Dark wizards discussing a plan to join a powerful man who was taking full advantage of the war in Germany. His name was Stuttgart Grindelwald."

Professor Dumbledore stopped speaking for a moment as he looked over the group assembled in front of him. The only sounds came from the number of curious silver instruments scattered throughout the office, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. Not even the portraits were moving and by the look of the wizard hanging behind Dumbledore, they were as enthralled by the impromptu lesson as the five people seated in front of him.

"What you do not know is that for a very long time, we wondered if Grindelwald even existed in a corporeal form. Why had we never heard of him before? Professor McGonagall learned through the Dark wizard she fostered with that Grindelwald was the leader of a very nasty underground movement in Germany. He wished to remove Muggles from our world at all cost. Our Dark wizards here in the United Kingdom adopted his rhetoric," Dumbledore picked up the teakettle and rattled it, listening to the inadequate amount of liquid sloshing inside. He sniffed and with a wave of his wand, the kettle was full again. He pointed his wand at the teapot and it was soon steaming. He opened his drawer again, and pulled back out the copper tin.

"More tea, anyone?" he asked. All of them shook their heads and he pulled a pinch of leaves from the tin and dropped them into his cup. He poured himself some more of the steaming liquid before continuing.

"You see the juxtaposition, don't you?" he asked the group. "The Muggles were fighting the leader of a country who wished to annihilate whole groups of people because he did not agree with their beliefs and their ways. We had our very own wizard doppelganger bent on doing the same to our world.

"Our Minister at the time was much more receptive to rumors of dissent among our people. Millicent Bagnold was quicker to use Aurors and others employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to separate the rumors from truth. Through their efforts we learned the group of Dark wizards in this country were calling themselves the Knights of Walpurgis. Their goal was to bring Grindelwald to our country so they could exact the same measures here. What they did not plan on was the number of wizarding families who opposed their creed and methods."

Dumbledore looked off to the windows, his blue eyes sad as he was caught in memories. "The numbers of pureblood families was larger then, unlike now. What these Dark wizards failed to realize is by their reign of terror, they accomplished in our world what they wished to inflict upon the Muggle world. Instead of ridding the world of Muggles, many wizarding families were lost while resisting the Knights of Walpurgis and Grindelwald and then again during Voldemort's reign."

Dumbledore stopped as his eyes floated to Ron, who winced at the Dark Lord's name. "Sorry," Ron mumbled. "It's habit."

"I understand completely, Mr. Weasley."

"I'm not sure I understand what this has to do with Adria Thornwood," Harry asked, allowing his impatience to show on his face and in his tone. From his past dealings with Professor Dumbledore, he knew there was more to this story than he was telling. Harry wished he would just move on to Adria's story.

Dumbledore looked on him kindly. "You will, Harry. In a moment, you will," he said as he took a deep breath.

"You must understand this is all conjecture on our part, but we believe when the Knights of Walpurgis realized many families were not interested in joining their cause, they began to use more drastic measures. It was believed they targeted the Thornwood family because of Alazar Thornwood's position as the Head of International Magical Cooperation. If anyone could clear Grindelwald to enter our country freely, it would be him. But Alazar Thornwood resisted and they took their wrath out on his family, in the most devious way they could. The attack on their home reportedly occurred on Christmas evening.

"The children had planned on returning home for Christmas day, but fortunately a last minute change of plans kept them at school. Gabriel Thornwood was a seventh year and of age, so he left Hogwarts as soon as we received the news to join in the search for his parents. It was only a week or two after his departure that Gabriel disappeared. I believe Gabriel was never seen or heard from again and Adria…."

Dumbledore looked up at the portrait of his predecessor. "Professor Dippet, if you could please continue from here."

The portrait of Professor Dippet cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. "I must say, it was quite a surprise when you spoke of what transpired last evening, Professor Dumbledore," the former headmaster said in a feeble voice. "Imagine, Adria Thornwood not dead after all," he paused and shook his head in wonder. "Albus, you remember how we all searched the castle for hours. I believe it was only after a student came forward to say he believed she returned home, the search was called off."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said evenly with no change of expression on his face. "It was our Head Boy if I recall correctly who passed us that information. It seems he was wrong."

"It was simply terrible to read in the _Daily Prophet_ a few days later of what was found at Thornwood Manor. So many believed she was the body found in the library. That girl has been a burden on my thoughts for many years before and after I retired. I felt I failed in my promise to keep her safe."

Dumbledore looked to the ceiling of his office. "I, of course knew of Alazar from my meetings with the International Confederacy of Wizards and we were also members of the Wizengamot together. However, I never had the opportunity to speak with him. Perhaps you remember, Professor Dippet, why the children remained at Hogwarts?"

"It was a very interesting circumstance, if I remember correctly. I received an owl from Alazar Thornwood, the day before the school closed for the Christmas holidays. He requested an immediate audience. The note was not very coherently written and I responded as quickly as I could. It was quite a surprise to hear from him, as I knew him to be quite busy during the strife of the Muggles."

The old wizard sighed and looked down, showing the top of his bald head. "When he arrived, I was much shocked at his appearance. Alazar looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks and whatever he was involved in affected him greatly."

The old wizard looked at the people before him and cleared his throat. "Before I summoned Professor Dumbledore to my office, I had a private conversation with Alazar Thornwood. He was afraid his family was being targeted by supporters of Grindelwald. He was raving about spells and hexes affecting his staff through out his home. It was then I learned his wife was already missing."

Professor Dippet paused, scratching the top of his head absently. "At least that's what he said. His wife had gone for a walk two days before and had not returned home. At the time of our meeting, there was still no word of the whereabouts of Olivia Thornwood. Alazar was beside himself, as you could imagine."

"By this time, I had requested Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn's presence in my office as they were the heads of the children's houses. Between the four of us, we managed to convince Alazar to inform his children of their mother's disappearance. So the children were summoned and while we waited, we left Alazar alone to confer in private in the hallway.

"I must say they were two of the most well-behaved and mature children I had ever come across when they arrived. Adria arrived with another student after her brother and looked on the verge of tears, but Gabriel spoke up for both of them. If I recall correctly, Henry Potter was the prefect who waited in the hall for her while we ushered them into the office."

"Was Henry my grandfather?" Harry began.

"Yes. Henry and Adria were good friends, not unlike your friends Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley beside you." Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Gabriel was visibly not happy about this, but Adria would not allow Henry to leave her side."

Professor Dippet continued. "Alazar wished for me to allow his children to remain here over the break in classes because he no longer trusted the safety of his own home. Gabriel protested fiercely at this, but Alazar was adamant he remain here at least through the Christmas holiday. If their mother was not returned before then Gabriel would be allowed to come home. But Alazar knew his children would be safer here then at home. Even then our school was legendary because of the procedures Hogwarts has in place for security. "

Hermione nodded her head at this, and Harry knew she was thinking of her many readings of _Hogwarts, A History_.

"I knew I could not deny his request. You remember how Alazar was when you entered my office for the first time," Dippet looked down at Professor Dumbledore who nodded slowly. "His eyes flickered all around the office as if expecting an attack at any time. I was struck by the tragedy of it all, and instantly wanted to keep the children safe."

Armando Dippet took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and blew his nose quite loudly before he continued speaking. "After Adria heard the news she went straight to the wall beside the window, and leaned against it. I believe the wall was the only object keeping her standing. Her eyes continually flickered over the office, never settling on one object or person for too long. She was visibly shaking. Finally she stepped in front of the windows there and stood looking out as if transfixed by what she saw."

There was a loud shriek and a whoosh of heat from behind them, making Hermione jump in her seat, and the students turned to look. Fawkes had combusted, the small ball of fire rising towards the ceiling before disappearing to wisps of smoke. Dumbledore watched its progress, his eyes following the small conflagration to the ceiling. It was strong enough to send the remaining scarlet and gold feathers floating to the floor. The ash drifted towards the perch below the golden post, gathering in a small gray and black heap. Harry knew the newborn Fawkes would be found within the pile of ash.

One of the portraits on the wall gave a soft sigh, "I remember, Professor Dumbledore," a small witch dressed in vibrant orange robes spoke up. "The whole family was drowning in misery."

They turned back to face the headmaster, who took off his half moon glasses and polished them with a soft cloth.

Armando Dippet said, "Alazar was quite vehement in his belief these followers of Grindelwald were targeting his family specifically. He would not elaborate, but we were under the impression they were pressuring him to do something he did not wish to."

"He shouted while you were summoning Professor Dumbledore," said the small portrait witch again. Professor Dumbledore looked up and the others looked behind them to the portraits lining the walls, many of whom were also nodding their heads.

"How was it, Agnes?" Professor Dumbledore asked quietly. "I was not aware of it."

"When Headmaster Dippet left him alone to summon you, he stalked around the office in a fury. He yelled at the fireplace that he would be damned if he would allow them to be used as a pawn in their game. He stood in front of the fireplace and –"

"And," another witch broke in. "He punched the marble. We were so afraid he was going to destroy the office, that's how angry he was."

A witch Harry recognized from the night Mr. Weasley was attached in the Department of Mysteries cleared her throat.

"Yes, Dilys?"

"When his daughter entered the room, Mr. Thornwood was turned away from you. He was right in front of my portrait and he had closed his eyes, whispering, 'Please keep her safe here. Please don't punish her for my mistakes and failings. She is an innocent in all of this.'"

Professor Dumbledore was quiet for a moment as he stared at all the portraits in turn. "Why have none of you ever spoken of this before? Most of you were in this very room this morning when I was speaking to Professor Dippet's portrait concerning the matter of Adria Thornwood's return."

Silence from all the witches and wizards along the walls and then came a cold voice from an empty portrait. "I imagine they wouldn't have wanted to interrupt the Great Albus Dumbledore," said Phineas Nigellus as he entered his frame from the left. "I'm sure most of them were under the impression you were all-knowing."

From his cold words, it seemed the former headmaster had not forgotten or forgiven Dumbledore for the death of his last descendent, Sirius Black.

"Ah, Phineas," Professor Dumbledore said, ignoring the insolent tone as he addressed the former headmaster. "May I say how nice it is of you to join our discussion?" Dumbledore spoke with great respect for Phineas Nigellus. "I trust everything is well at your other portrait?"

Phineas Nigellus snorted and it was not a very nice sound. "Oh, no, I find I can not stay away for too long with just the portraits of my mad descendents to keep me company."

The snide comments of Phineas Nigellus had broken the mood of the group. Dumbledore sipped his tea and said, "Now, what were we discussing before we lost our way? Ah, yes, Adria and Gabriel. Is there anything you would like to add to the discussion, Phineas?"

The portrait of Phineas did not bother to reply; instead he feigned sleeping by snoring very loudly. A few of the other portraits uproariously voiced their disapproval at his blatant rudeness, but Professor Dumbledore raised his hand and they all settled, including Phineas Nigellus.

Once order was restored, Professor Dippet continued his story. "Right after her father and Gabriel left, Adria sank to her knees as if she had no more strength left to stand. When Professor Dumbledore and I rushed to her side, she looked up at us with wide eyes and said, 'winter's arrived' before falling into a dead faint. To our amazement, we looked out the window and discovered snow had covered the grounds. We had a blizzard that evening, one of the worst I remember in all of my time at Hogwarts. Adria spent the next few days in the hospital wing recuperating from her ordeal. Professor Dumbledore and I each assigned her a student to look over her during her recuperation period. Henry Potter, our Gryffindor prefect and Tom Riddle, our Head Boy."

Harry felt stunned again by the name of someone else in his family who was so close, but yet so far away.. "Henry Potter? My grandfather? The girl, Adria called me Henry, right before…"

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Yes, Harry. Henry was your grandfather. I must say there has always been quite a resemblance between the Potter men. You look remarkably like James, and James was the spitting image of Henry. I believe when Adria first looked upon you in the hallway, she probably mistook you for Henry. Now as for her outburst in the hospital wing, let's discuss that, shall we?"

There were so many questions whirling through Harry's head. Why was this the first time he had ever heard of his grandfather? How could he have not been curious enough to ask about his heritage before? Harry looked over at Hermione as she shifted in her seat, and she seemed to be struggling to make herself look smaller. The creaking leather of her chair only caused Professor Dumbledore's gaze to settle on her.

"Now, Miss Granger, I believe Madam Pomfrey said you were sitting with Miss Thornwood when she first awakened."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She swallowed thickly before answering. "That's correct, Professor Dumbledore. I was sitting beside her bed, reading the newspaper. I couldn't tell at first she was awake as I was holding the newspaper up so I could read it."

She shifted in her seat again so she was sitting on her hands. "I don't know what I did, Professor!" she burst out. "I felt someone staring at me, and when I pulled the paper down, she was looking at me with absolute horror on her face. I tried to calm her, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall," she turned to her Head of House. "But she jumped from the bed and stumbled backwards away from me until she was against the windows. She threw her arm out as if she was trying to summon something to her."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Her wand, I would presume. Please continue, Miss Granger."

Hermione took a deep breath before continuing. Ron placed a hand on her upper arm, and she threw him a grateful look. "I guess when she realized she couldn't speak, that's when," Hermione's breath hitched. "That's when she began to make those horrible sounds and the mattresses and pillows began to rip and tear of their own accord."

"Where is the newspaper now?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"It was caught up in the melee in the infirmary," Hermione said as she placed her hand over Ron's and squeezed it gently.

"I don't believe you had anything in the least to do with her outburst, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said.

Hermione looked up, her eyes hopeful. "You don't?"

"No and I believe Professor McGonagall and Bill would agree with me. Now, let's see today's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. _Accio_ newspaper!"

They didn't have to wait long. Within a few minutes, a folded _Daily Prophet_ slid under the crack in the door and into Professor Dumbledore's waiting hand. He spread it out over the desk so only the front and back page of the paper was visible. "Now, you said you were holding it in front of you reading from an article inside, is that correct, Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said as she leaned forward over the Headmaster's desk.

Harry and Ron leaned over the desk also, tilting their heads to the side to read the upside down headline. **Suspected Death Eater's Trial Date Set For May 1st.**.

The photo showed Draco Malfoy's father, looking entirely too smug and sure of himself as he was lead from Azkaban prison. He was trying to tear his arms from the grips of the Aurors that held him as he walked up the stone steps.

"Well, it certainly seems Lucius's plight has taken up most of the front page. On the back of the newspaper are advertisements. I suppose we could show this to her again to see if she shows any reaction, but personally, I believe her reaction and subsequent wreckage of the infirmary was because of learning the curse was in effect."

Hermione looked visibly relieved. She patted Ron's hand and looked over at Harry with a smile on her face.

There was a sudden sharp knock on Professor Dumbledore's door. "Come in." Professor Snape opened the door and stopped sharply at the sight of the group gathered around the headmaster's desk.

"Ah, Severus. Please come in. I believe we have finished our discussion?" Professor Dumbledore asked the group in front of him. "We can always meet again tomorrow after Bill has a chance to look over the curse in more detail should you have any more questions."

They all nodded with the exception of Harry, who felt a flash of anger at Snape for disturbing them. He had so many more questions he would have liked to have asked Dumbledore about his grandfather and Adria Thornwood.

"I trust you three will be able to find your way to the Great Hall for dinner, am I correct?" Dumbledore asked as he folded his hands on his desk. The meaning in his words was clear, and they carried a warning to stay away from the hospital wing. "Bill, Professor McGonagall, please remain seated as I'm sure that whatever news Severus has to impart will concern the two of you, too."

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood up from their chairs and walked to the door as Snape entered the office, flicking his black robes so they snapped. Harry could not help but give Snape a look of utter loathing as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher sneered at them in passing. Harry knew he would pay for his rudeness during the next lesson, but his anger managed to get the best of him before he could control it.

Once they were in the hallway, the wooden door swung shut behind them on its own accord with a resounding thump.

"Can you hear anything?" Ron whispered to Harry as the three of them stared at the knocker on the door.

Harry put his ear to the door and shook his head. "No. They must have put Imperturable charm on the door. They have to be talking about Order business though, if Dumbledore asked McGonagall and Bill to stay behind."

"I wish they would let us in on some of their meetings and such," Ron said as the three of them began to walk down the spiral staircase.

Hermione unleashed her bushy hair from the braid it was escaping from and scratched at her scalp, making her look for a moment as if she put her finger into an electrical outlet. She ran her hand through the freed brown locks, smoothing them the best she could and looked at Ron. "We're still too young."

"Yeah, Hermione, but I'm sure we've accomplished more then some of the other members of the Order, fighting Death Eaters and all that," Ron countered.

"Oh, they know," Hermione said as she stepped onto the now descending staircase. "I bet if Voldemort is still a threat after our seventh year, we'll be asked to join the Order."

"Yeah," Harry said snidely. "If he doesn't kill me first."

"Don't be so facetious, Harry," Hermione said sharply as she walked into the hallway from behind the stone gargoyle. She turned to face the two boys as soon as they were clear of the closing wall.

"I do think it's interested how they won't allow us to join the Order, but Voldemort will brand Malfoy a Death Eater at sixteen." Harry said as he stepped down into the hallway.

"We still don't know for sure if Malfoy was branded by Voldemort—" Hermione stopped speaking and rounded on Ron as he winced again at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "And you! How could you not say anything about those memory flashes you've been having? How could you keep something like that away from me--I mean us!" she added quickly, her eyes sliding to Harry as her cheeks pinked a bit.

"I didn't want to worry you," Ron said, looking down at her seriously. A look Harry didn't quite know how to identify passed between them.

"You didn't tell Lavender, did you?" she asked Ron and she folded her arms over her chest.

Ron snorted. "No! She knows about the scars on my arms, but she thinks I got them playing Quidditch. She wouldn't understand even if I told her." Ron's face cleared as if he had just been struck by a very serious realization.

"Are you still hiding from her?" Hermione said as she dropped her arms to her sides. "Don't you think that's a bit unfair to her?"

"What? Of course not!" Ron said.

"Good," Hermione said with as her mouth tilted up into a grin. "Because she's coming down the hallway behind you."

Harry stood off to one side trying to keep his face straight as Ron jumped and looked from side to side as if searching for a place to hide.

"See what I mean? You need to make a decision, Won-Won," she snapped peevishly as she started walking down the hallway towards the Great Hall. Ron took off after her as she said over her shoulder, "maybe you'll be able to make a decision sooner if I'm no longer available to help you with your… homework."

At that, Harry ran to catch up with Ron who was pleading with Hermione to change her mind. "Come on, Hermione. You know how I am," Ron said.

Harry wondered why Ron just didn't go ahead and break up with Lavender. It was obvious from the way Ron was avoiding her she was no longer important to him, so Harry couldn't understand why Ron kept her hanging on. _What he needed to do was kiss Hermione_, Harry thought, tipping the side of his mouth into a smile as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. Ron looked positively miserable.

Harry knew what he himself needed to do was kiss the other Weasley who attended Hogwarts. But as long as she was going out with Dean, she was off limits. _Well, she might still be off limits if Ron were to find out how I feel about her_, Harry thought.

Harry had to admit there had been quite a few side glances between him and Ginny, and all the accidental bumps when Harry could manage it. He was getting tired of dancing around how he felt about Ginny. He wanted to kiss her badly and soon.

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. He had so many other things he needed to accomplish right now and obsessing about Ginny Weasley was not one of them. He still needed to get that memory from Slughorn and he also needed to find out what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement. His main priority right now was getting the memory from Slughorn, but he couldn't help be curious about what news Snape had which was so important he had to interrupt their meeting.

He walked behind his still bickering friends, his mind filled with Riddles, Weasleys and Malfoys.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six Nightmares**

"No, no, no, no," Ginny moaned, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around her stomach. She shook her head in denial, not wanting to believe Tom Riddle was still with her.

Still in her.

Her stomach rolled again and she leaned away from the mess, resting her forehead on the floor. She wanted to lie down. It would be so easy. All she needed to do was lean over and let gravity take her to the floor. The cold stone would ease the fire in her cheeks. Her body started to fall and then--

"Miss Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey rushed to her side, and Ginny jerked her head up. Madam Pomfrey placed her hand to Ginny's forehead and with a quick flick of the wand in her other hand, the mess on the floor vanished.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said her voice catching as a sob broke free. She wiped her mouth with the sleeve covering her hand as she looked up at the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey helped her to her feet and looked into her eyes. "It will be okay, Miss Weasley."

"I need…I need to go," Ginny said, trying to pull her arm from Madam Pomfrey's grasp. All she wanted to do was run away. Where could she go? Somewhere far away from everyone, somewhere she could hide. Would one of the towers be empty now? Yes, hiding would be good. There was so much she didn't understand, so much running through her mind and she felt more than anything the need to be alone. She needed to think. She needed to make sense of everything that had transpired in the last few minutes.

"Don't be ridiculous," Madam Pomfrey admonished gently.

"I can't," Ginny gasped and shook her head. Her stomach heaved again, but there was nothing else left. Every nerve ending in her body tingled. Her emotions were so frayed and she worried she could break at any time. The skin under her clothes felt too small for her body and her breath was coming out in silent gasps. How could this be happening to her again?

"Oh yes, you can," Madam Pomfrey said as she steered Ginny to a bed alongside the sleeping girl. A glass of water appeared on the bedside cabinet and Ginny stared at it, realizing her throat was sore. The nurse waved her wand towards a large armoire in the corner of the room and the lower drawer opened. A long white nightgown rose from the basket, flying to the end of the bed and folded itself neatly upon the spread. "Change into this shift and get into bed. I'll be right back with an anti-nausea potion. You are looking quite peaked, Miss Weasley; you'll not be going back to Gryffindor Tower this evening."

Ginny nodded her head slowly in defeat and raised her shirttail up to wipe her face. The rain pounded against the windows, the constant beat deafening in the silence of the ward. She kicked her trainers off and with trembling hands, unbuttoned her shirt and jeans. She pulled the white cotton nightgown over her head and leaned on the bed to pull off her shoes and socks.

Distracted by her thoughts, she dragged a hand through her hair, pulling out the elastic band holding it back. She sat down on the end of the bed and reached for the glass of water, the liquid sloshing over her fingers and into her lap as she brought it to her mouth. Drinking deeply, the cool water slid down her throat and extinguished the fire in her stomach.

Madam Pomfrey pulled back the curtain to her bed as Ginny was putting the empty glass back and handed her a smoking goblet. "Drink this down. It may make you feel a bit queer, but that's how you'll know its working. Then I want you to lie down and sleep. No arguments, understood?"

Ginny nodded as she pulled her legs up on the bed and sat tailor fashion. Criss cross applesauce, a little voice in her head sang and she resisted the urge to giggle. It would sound horrible if she freed it, the nervous laugh of a mad teenager. She wrapped her hands around the warm cup and shivered. It was so cold in here. Her skin tightened and goose pimples broke out along her arms and legs. Taking a deep breath, she drank from the cup. The concoction was bitter and it burned as it went down, hitting her belly with a dull slosh. The effect of it spread from her stomach to her extremities, warming her from the inside out. She handed the goblet back to Madam Pomfrey.

The wooden doors to the infirmary banged open and Draco Malfoy strode in. Madam Pomfrey jumped and turned towards the door, instinctively hiding her patient behind her back. Ginny's eyes grew wide as he stopped in the aisle not far from her bed. He stared at her. "You!" he hissed. He was almost back to normal, except for a pair of antennae flailing around his forehead.

"You did this to me!" He growled, reaching into his robes for his wand. He stalked a few more steps towards her. Ginny scrambled up to the head of the bed and reached for her wand on the cabinet. She missed and the wand clattered to the floor. Diving onto her stomach for it, she pumped her legs to bring her a few more inches closer to the floor. Ginny needed her wand, there was no way she was facing Malfoy without it. The wand whirled under her fingers before she flipped it into her hand. She came up and kneeled on the bed, pointing her wand at him from behind Madam Pomfrey's back.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey said, her face turning red with anger. "How dare you come into my room that way? Put that wand away right this instant! You will respect my patients and I or you will turn around and deal with those antennae protruding from your forehead alone!"

Draco stopped and crossed his arms at his chest. His mouth curled into a smile with a cynical, cruel twist to it. "Oh, show respect should I? To that Weasley," he spat as he motioned at her with his wand, "who hexed me into this insect?"

"Is this true, what he said?" Madam Pomfrey turned back to Ginny and jumped in surprise. "For goodness sake, Miss Weasley! Put down that wand immediately! What has gotten into you students lately?"

Ginny slowly lowered her arm and looked up at Madam Pomfrey. "Now, is this true what he says? Did you hex him?"

Ginny nodded as she settled back down into a sitting position on the bed, and pulled her knees under the shift to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs but held onto her wand.

"Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy, I'll deal with you in a moment," Madam Pomfrey said shortly before she turned back to Ginny and quietly asked, "What hex did you use? I need to know, if I am to help him."

"_Accresco Cimex_," Ginny said defiantly as she watched Malfoy sit down on the bed across from her. He stared at her and his eyes burned with dislike. The foot long feelers were still moving around his head and he raised a hand to flick them away from his eyes. "Must he be right there, across from me?"

"_Accresco_ -- Miss Weasley! Where have you learned such a hex? I must say that you, Miss are in no position to decide where Mr. Malfoy decides to sit. I will have to report this breach of magic to your Head of House, do you understand? You of all people I would have expected better from," Madam Pomfrey said as she flicked her wand towards the curtains on Ginny's bed. The sound of metal scraping on metal filled the quiet room as the curtain closed around her bed and Ginny pulled her legs out from under the nightgown.

"I will be right back, Mr. Malfoy. I just need to fetch my snippers," Madam Pomfrey said from the other side of the curtain. Ginny knew the nurse could have just summoned them, but where was the fun in that? Madam Pomfrey was very good at allowing you to wait and squirm if you displeased her in any way.

"Your snippers?" Draco cried from the other side of the curtain. "What are you going to do? Cut them off? Is it going to hurt?"

Ginny stifled another maniacal giggle with her fist as she put her wand back on the cabinet. Sliding off the bed so she could pull the covers back, a shiver ran through her body as soon as her bare feet hit the cold floor. It felt as if someone had hit her with the Jelly Legs Jinx. She cast a suspicious look at the curtain, knowing Malfoy and his wand lay just on the other side. She wouldn't put it past him to hex her when she couldn't defend herself.

The quivering sensations continued. The feverish tingling in her body from before increased in intensity and began to feel a bit more pleasant. It coursed through her body from head to toe, making her sway unsteadily on her feet. Whoa, she thought. Is this what it feels like to drink a case of butterbeer?

She heard her mother's voice in her ear as if she were standing right behind her. "_Ginerva Weasley. Are you **drunk**?_"

_Well yes Mum, as a matter of fact, I think I am_.

She brought the back of her hand up to rest on her hot forehead. What had she been so worried about before? Closing her eyes, she shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs overtaking her vision. She ran her fingers down her face, and then did it again, fascinated with the trail of feeling they left. She knew she had to stop and get into bed and go to sleep. When she turned to crawl back into bed her left foot knocked into her right ankle and she lost her balance. Her hand lashed out and grabbed the curtains to keep her from falling.

The curtain slid open as she fell backwards onto the floor. Her teeth clicked together painfully as her bum hit the cold stone. Of course Malfoy was watching her, an evil smirk spreading over his face.

"If you think I'm going to help you, you're mistaken," he said as he sneered at her plight.

Ginny waved a hand at him dismissively. "I don't need your help," she said, and realized her words were slurring. _It'll make me feel a bit queer, eh?_ Her stomach was certainly no longer bothering her. Well, she was having trouble feeling anything from the chest down, so a stomachache was a moot point. She pushed herself back to her feet and looked over at Malfoy. The feelers protruding from his head were gliding gracefully around his head. She tilted her head to the side, watching them move, fascinated.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy said in disgust.

Ginny broke her gaze away and pulled the bed sheets back. Her eyes were so heavy. She needed to get into bed right that very instant or she'd fall over again and sleep on the floor. "You know, Draco," she said as she reached for the pillow, accidentally knocking it to the floor. Her hair fell into her face as she bent to pick it up. Why had everything gone so blurry? After a couple of tries she finally had the pillow clutched between her fingers and she flung it back to the head of the bed. Her hair was still in her face. It took a few tries to move it from obscuring her view of Malfoy and even then she was still blowing random strands of copper out of her mouth.

"What?" He asked, not bothering to hide his amusement at her fumbling. He leaned back on the pillows, crossing his black clad legs at the ankles.

"It's a shame you're so miserable all the time," she said as crawled very unlady-like into the bed and pulled the covers up over her.

"It's a shame I'm what?" Malfoy asked his voice far away. It didn't matter. He didn't matter. All that mattered was how good the bed and the covers felt right then. She fell back against the pillows and instantly sank into the goose down. It was heavenly. Her words were now slurring worse then before. "Your looks are completely wasted on a rotten and miserable git like you."

If he heard her, she had no idea.

_She fell into a dreamy reality, not unlike the one she had just parted from._

_Once she was clothed in the long white night gown, she crawled into the bed alongside the strange girl. Her stomach was rolling, and her head was spinning. She was having difficulty taking deep breaths, and if she wasn't careful, she was going to hyperventilate. Madam Pomfrey had tucked the blankets around her and left for a moment, letting her know she would be right back with an anti-nausea potion. When she returned, Ginny drank it down and fell back against the pillows. All she wanted to do was escape from Tom Riddle's memory she had seen a few minutes ago._

_What was she going to do? Her eyelids were becoming so heavy. Would she have to combat Tom again? She was no longer a scrawny eleven year-old, and she felt stronger. What would she have to do to make him leave her alone once and for all? Would she have the strength to fight him on her own?_

_There was a soft sound from the other side of the curtain. She turned her head to the sound, listening for it again. Finally, after a moment, she decided it was nothing. She rolled over to her side and gasped in fright. The girl from the next bed was standing in front of her bedside table, fingering Ginny's wand. Her long pale hair hung in her face, hiding it from view._

"_Oi," Ginny said, sitting up in bed. "What do you think you're doing with that?"_

_The girl turned to her face her and Ginny frantically pushed the covers away to scramble from the bed. In her haste, her foot became entangled in the blankets and she fell to the floor. She lay sprawled there for a moment, trying to steady her rapid breathing; not wanting to believe what she saw was real. Ginny stood slowly and faced the girl with the protection of the bed between them._

_The girl looked like a black and white painting, brush stroked with vivid color in certain areas to highlight importance. Her blue eyes were wide and bright, shiny with unshed tears. They were shockingly vibrant against the smudged outline of heavy brown shadows underneath them. Pale hair and skin gave her the translucent appearance of a ghost. The space between her nose and mouth was marred by spots of inflamed red skin and a bruised sea of purple spread upwards to her cheeks. _

_Oh Merlin, Ginny thought as she swayed on her feet. Someone had, someone had…someone had sewn her mouth shut. _

_The girl opened her mouth to speak, the heavy black thread tore through the skin and crimson bled down her chin. _

_Ginny screamed—_

Her eyes flew open. She brought her hand up to her chest and rested it there, feeling the rapid rise and fall as her breathing slowed. It had been a dream. Thankfully, it was nothing more then a nightmare.

Only a few minutes must have passed as she could hear Madam Pomfrey and Malfoy arguing about the removal of the feelers on his head from the other side of the curtain. She slowly closed her eyes and almost immediately her hand fell from her chest to the bed as she slipped back into sleep

_Tones of umber and moss filled the forest, and the burgeoning shadows were a dusky, whispery purple as the red and gold sun set to the west. The copse was alive all around her with birds calling to one another from the top of the silhouetted trees. She smiled at the sounds of their song. She belonged here, lived here, was loved here._

_This forest was old. The tops of oak and pine trees towered above her, their great heights dizzying to look at. As she passed them by, she reached out to touch each one, the rough edges of their bark biting into the soft flesh of her palms. The brambles and underbrush moved aside, none snaring her flowing skirts as she passed. _

_She had the sense of them, the spirits of the woods. They were present in every leaf and needle, falling in showers to the earth before her. They crackled under her bare feet, a living carpet for her to walk upon. She took a deep breath, tasting the scent of moss and decaying leaves on her tongue. She wanted to drink it down, and hungered for more._

_She threw her arms out wide and twirled in a circle, her skirts and hair flying like a rippling flag in the wind. Faster and faster she spun, the sky and trees blurring until she fell to the ground, her mind spinning._

_The sun dropped further in the sky, and the shadows all around her grew long. Soon the sun would slip beneath the horizon and the Twilight King would appear where the depth of shadows dropped into blackness. The forest quieted around her. _

_She folded her hands in her lap, and bowed her head. Long red hair fell over her shoulder, covering her entwined fingers. _

_The dying sun cast one last ray through the trees, lighting on her bowed head. The halo around her head shimmered like liquid fire. _

_The shadows along the trees opened, and at last she heard his approach. _

_An indescribable feeling that she had grown accustomed to coursed through her young body. This was not her first meeting with the Twilight King, and it would not be her last. She was amazed to realize she loved being here with him, on the brink of falling into the endless dark. _

_It was he she had grown to love._

_Then he was standing above her, offering his hand and she took it, a shiver flowing through her body at his touch. She rose to meet his gaze._

_They stared at one another in the gathering gloom, knowing at once when it was fully dark they would be parted. Their time together was always so brief._

_At last she smiled up at him, her lover, his hand tightening around her much smaller one. His other hand snaked into her hair and pulled her to him, her body falling against his solid warmth. She moaned and it was all the invitation he needed._

_His mouth smashed down onto hers and she fought the urge to fall. She wanted all of him, to taste him, to devour him and he wanted the same. She could feel her lips bruising from the onslaught of his kisses, but she didn't mind. Too soon, he would push her away and all she would be left with was the swelling sensation of his mouth on hers._

_She shouldn't be doing this. It was against the laws of the forest, but it was him, and it was her and their hearts beat in a frantic pulse together._

_It was over before it had really begun. He was gone and dark shadows surrounded her. She found herself flung to the forest floor, her skirts in a heap around her. _

_The dream was changing as they are apt to do. Someone else was coming. The darkness approaching was alive, and it threatened to swallow her, if she allowed it. But it was also a darkness that could slither close to her feet and plant little kisses against the hem of her dress if she wished it. She was strong here; this was her place, not the intruder's._

_She could hear his footsteps through the forest, and slowly she stood, turning to the sound. All around her the night sounds died away and the silence was deafening. The forest did not approve this new arrival, but could do nothing to stop it. It was coming for her, their favorite, and all the forest could do was watch. _

"_Hello, Ginerva," Tom Riddle smiled as he walked into the dark purplish light of twilight. "It's so nice to see you again."_

_Ginny nodded, her lips pursing into a frown. "Tom. I wish I could say the same."_

"_How long has it been?"_

"_Not long enough," Ginny said as she smoothed dead leaves and twigs from her skirt. "Why are you here?"_

_Tom's young and arrogantly handsome face broke into a wide grin. "My, you look quite stunning. Never would I have imagined you'd grow into such a beauty."_

_Ginny bared her teeth and hissed at him in anger, but it had no effect. He moved closer, picking up a strand of her hair to roll in between his fingers. "Where _did_ you get all this beautiful hair, Ginerva?"_

_She slapped his hand away and moved away from him. "How dare you touch me," she said in a low voice. "As if I still belong to you. I never belonged to you." _

_Tom smiled and spread his hands wide. "I come to you unarmed. Let's not make a fuss, shall we?"_

"_What do you want, Tom?" Ginny asked through gritted teeth._

"_I'm here to warn you against the girl currently sleeping beside you, of course. Her name is Adria. Such a pretty girl, almost as pretty as you." Tom turned and Ginny followed his line of sight to see that the bed with the sleeping girl had materialized in the forest. Vines wove through the metal frame, giving it the appearance of belonging to the glen._

_Tom moved to the side of the bed and looked down at the girl. "Don't let her beauty fool you, Ginny. Underneath it lays a cold-hearted killer. She murdered her own brother, and she tried to murder a classmate of hers so long ago."_

_Ginny narrowed her eyes at Tom. "And you know this, why?" she asked._

_Tom spoke without taking his eyes from the girl. "My benefactors were not amused when I opened up the Chamber of Secrets and allowed the Basilisk to roam the school. I was not playing along with the rules they had laid out for me. I would be the ruler of the wizarding world, as long as I listened to them of course. But I had other plans. I was not to be anyone's puppet. Oh, I was going to rule, but on my terms. I'm afraid my benefactors weren't very happy with me. They meant nothing to me. Their plans meant nothing to me. Their children who masqueraded as my friends meant nothing to me. I wanted immortality."_

_Leaves from the trees above rained down to cover the bed. Tom continued to stare at the girl. He reached out a hand towards her face and she whimpered, turning away in her sleep. "I think I could have fallen in love with her. But she was weak. She simpered and begged and I hate weakness. What a difference my life might have been if I had, right Ginerva? But think of all the fun I might have missed? I wanted to be the most feared wizard who ever lived. I wanted everyone to cower at the sound of my name."_

"_You accomplished that, Tom," Ginny said as she placed her hands on her hips. Amazingly, she felt an acute lack of fear of Tom in this place._

"_Oh, yes. I did, didn't I? But then there was that boy, one little boy who destroyed all of my plans. I remember now. He's your Twilight King, Harry Potter," Tom spat._

"_And he'll defeat you again, this time for good."_

_Tom looked up at Ginny and a shiver ran down her back. Did his eyes flash red? Her hands dropped from her waist. "Will he? You never stopped loving him, have you Ginerva? Has he noticed you yet?" He smiled cruelly. "No, of course he hasn't. Who are you to him, Ginny Weasley? You're no one, according to your love, Harry Potter."_

_Her hands curled into fists so tight, her fingernails cut into her palms. "Why are you here? You tried to kill me, remember?"_

"_Oh, yes. I remember. But let's not dwell on the past, shall we, Ginerva? You must never let this girl find her tongue. I thought I banished her to Hell. If this spell is broken, Hell will come to Hogwarts."_

_Ginny fought impatience and to cover it, she shrugged saying, "Why should I believe any word you say to me? Tom Riddle, master of lies."_

_Something flickered deep in Tom's eyes and as he smiled at her. Ginny shivered again and this time she felt fear. "Because you were mine, once," his tongue flicked briefly between his lips. _

"_And I still remember how your fear tastes." _

Ginny moaned in her sleep, her body bathed in sweat. She kicked the blankets down, rolling over onto her side.

_Whose bedroom was she in? Not hers, this wasn't the Burrow; it was too nice. _

_Shame flushed her freckled cheeks and she looked around the room, jealousy tightening her chest. Flowered draperies hung from the large windows, and a comfortable-looking window seat was tucked into a corner. Pale pink and green striped wallpaper hung on the walls behind portraits of old-fashioned women lazily fanning themselves on beaches or lunching in colorful meadows. The windows were positioned to catch the sun and bright light streamed through the windows, warming the carpet under her feet. The smell of fresh flowers lingered in the air. The four-poster bed tucked between two windows was covered with a pink duvet and scattered with colorful pillows. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the mantle above it was lined with black and white photographs. _

_She was here for a specific reason that eluded her at the moment. But she had no worries, maybe it would return while she explored. _

_Ginny walked over to the fireplace, clutching her toes on the plush carpet. It was so decadently soft under her bare feet. The people in the first picture smiled elegantly against a back drop of a garden. Two adults with two small children in their laps sat with their arms wrapped around the children. They pointed to the camera and the little girl waved, while the older boy struggled to be free from his father's grasp. _

_Such a happy family, Ginny thought with a smile as she looked at them. Another frame was filled with a young girl, who was staring adoringly at an older boy as he picked her up and swung her around and around until they both grew dizzy and fell to the ground. Another was a family portrait, the four subjects older this time and smiling at the camera. In yet another, the girl, who looked to be in her early teens, sat on a swing and smiled secretively at the photographer before throwing her head back towards the sky. Her legs pumped to and fro until she swung herself out of the frame. The final picture on the mantle was of the boy from the earlier picture. He looked older then Ginny now and stared out of the frame, his eyes on Ginny as she picked it up to examine it closer._

_He smiled at her and Ginny found herself smiling back. He was very handsome. She reached a finger to touch the glass when there was a sudden pounding at the door. Ginny dropped the picture, and it smashed against the flagstones. She winced in pain as a piece of the shattered glass sliced her leg. _

_The pounding on the door continued, increasing in sound and ferocity. There was so much force behind the hammering sound, Ginny it was sure it was going to break at any moment. She backed away from the door, realizing the room had rapidly grown dark. _

_She was there for a reason; there was something here, something she needed to find. Where was it, where could she have hidden it? The frame of the door began to splinter behind her. What did you do with it? She shouted to the empty room. But it was too late. With one final heave, the door broke open. The monster was coming. Ginny dived under the bed. She had to hide; she couldn't let it find her. _

_She knocked her head on the crossbeams under the bed and a leather bound book fell in front of her face. Ginny knew she had found what she had come for. She reached back as far as she could and tucked the book in the waistband of her trousers at the small of her back._

_The sound of ragged breathing filled the room, and the floor quivered as the monster stalked into the room. Ginny breathed shallowly through her mouth, hoping whatever was above her could not hear the frantic beating of her heart._

_Something cold and clammy grasped her ankle and began to pull her from her hiding place. Ginny mewled in fear. If saw it, she knew she was going to die. She clawed at the plush carpet, grasping for purchase as kicked back at the hands, crying out in pain as the rug burnt her exposed stomach._

_The monster pulled her free from under the bed and she - _

Awoke with a shudder in the hospital wing.

Was she dreaming still? She didn't know if she could trust this reality to be any different from the dream one she had been in earlier. Feeling strangely lifted from her body, she pinched her arm, sighing in relief at the sharp, sudden pain. She lay in the semi-darkness, feeling uncertain of where the line between the dream world and the real world ended. A swimmer was what she felt like, skimming the surface of the water with even strokes, gliding between the reflections of reality on the smooth liquid surface above the un-reflected dream world below.

She stared at the vaulted stone ceiling above her and listened to the sound of the rain reverberating on the roof above. Shifting in the bed, she could almost feel as if she was lying on something.

What did those dreams mean? All she could remember from them was a whirlwind of color and emotion, and even now they were fading from her memory like wisps of smoke.

There was so much she didn't understand. Her mind shied away from the first two dreams, causing her to examine the final one. She had been so frightened, and she had been hiding under something. Was there a quill in her hand? A book in front of her? Had she been looking for something? What had she been hiding from? She desperately tried to recall the last few fragments she remembered before awakening, but it was lost. She briefly closed her eyes, trying to remember.

She must have fallen asleep without realizing it and she felt a flash of relief that it had been dreamless. The voices alongside her bed weren't there just a moment ago. She opened her eyes a bit, not enough for them to notice she was awake, but enough for her to see who it was. It must have been late in the evening; the torches burned low in their brackets along the stone walls.

Ah, Ginny thought. I should have known who it was by their voices. Ron, Hermione and Harry were sitting on chairs between her and the girl. They were whispering furiously to one another and Ginny knew if she wanted them to continue freely, she would have to continue feigning sleep. She closed her eyes tightly and sighed as quietly as she could.

Although they were only a few feet from her, they might as well have been a million miles away.

"I wish Snape hadn't interrupted us," Ron was saying. "I would have liked to have asked Professor Dumbledore how he defeated Grindelwald in 1945."

"Do you really think he would have told us?" Hermione asked.

"He might have," Harry said. "He and Professor Dippet told us so much about everything else."

Hermione sighed. "I feel so horrible for her. I mean, can you imagine? It's like Professor Dumbledore said to Professor McGonagall. She returns after being missing for so long suffering from a horrible curse. She finds she's in a place she thought she knew, with nothing but strangers standing over her. Out of place and out of time. It's so tragic, really."

Her brother snorted.

"What?" Hermione whispered furiously. "You don't think having your family disappear around you and then being thrown forward in time isn't somehow tragic? I can't imagine going though half of what she has gone through!"

Ginny lifted her head on the pillow and looked behind her friends to see the girl still sleeping. Something was pulling at her memory. Something about the girl. What was it?

"I don't know," Ron whispered back. "It just seems so contrived somehow."

"Contrived how?"

Ginny watched as Ron waved his hand in the air away from Hermione. "I don't know. How do we know she wasn't part of it? How do we know her father wasn't a member of the Knights of Walpurgis? She gets kidnapped, her brother disappears forever and she's brought to Hogwarts for protection. What if that was Grindelwald's plan all along?"

Hermione made a noise in disgust. "How can you think that?"

"I don't know Hermione," Ron's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Maybe because every single time we try and figure these things out, we're always wrong. We think one way and it always turns out to be wrong!"

"No we don't!" Hermione spat back.

"We don't? Let's have a little history lesson here, shall we, Hermione? What about Snape and the Sorcerer's stone? And remember how sure we were Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin? He wasn't, was he? It was Tom Riddle who opened the Chamber of Secrets!"

Ginny's stomach gave another lurch and she stopped listening. It wasn't Tom who opened the Chamber of Secrets. She was the one who opened the chamber and now she was afraid she had never really gotten rid of him. That Tom Riddle was still alive somehow, in her.

She rolled over to her side away from them, not wanting them to see how pale her face had become. With his name the images he had shown her when she first entered the hospital wing came flooding back along with her dream. How could she have seen his memory? How could he be haunting her dreams? Tom did not want her curse to be lifted. He said she had been weak, but Ginny could sense no weakness in the girl. From the memory shown, Ginny knew Adria (_Adria was her name!_) hated Tom Riddle just from the look on her face when she followed him from the library. But if she hated him, then why did she go with him? She was so confused.

"Stop it," Harry said quietly as Hermione and Ron started to argue. "Ron's right. We do always jump to the wrong conclusions before we learn all the facts. We need to get some more information before we decide what to do. I still want to speak to Hagrid about her. I wish he hadn't been in the forest with Aragog after dinner. It would have been a perfect time to speak to him. How long do you think it'll be before the back issues of the _Daily Prophet_ arrive?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders. "A week, maybe?"

"Let's see what happens in a week, all right? Dumbledore said Bill is going to be here for the next few days, he might be able to break the curse and then we can hear what happened to Adria straight from her. I still have to somehow get that memory from Slughorn."

Ginny gave a start. Bill was here? She rolled back over and looked at them. Still none of them was watching her. All three of their eyes were on the back of Adria. Ginny lay there quietly until an image from her first dream overtook her. The girl's mouth had been sewn shut! She gasped and Harry turned his head and caught her watching him.

"Hello," he said with a slight smile. "Not feeling very well, huh?"

Hermione and Ron turned towards her. "All right, Ginny?" Ron asked.

Ginny nodded as she sat up a bit on her pillows. "It must have been something I ate," she lied smoothly even though her mind was in turmoil.

She didn't know what to do. She knew something about Adria, but how could she say without letting them know how she came about the information? When would Tom show himself again? Would he? How could he still be a part of her? She pulled the blankets up and over her shoulders, wrapping herself in the much-needed warmth.

"We should probably be going," Hermione said, looking pointedly at Ron. "We weren't even supposed to come here. We were on our way back from dinner when we heard you weren't feeling very well."

Ginny furrowed her brows. "Who told you I was here?"

Ron stood up, his face reddening with anger. "Malfoy," he spat. "We passed him in the hall. He had two big bandages on his forehead. Did you really hex him and his cronies with the Cockroach Crapper Hex?"

Ginny nodded, even though she felt like a completely different girl now. Ron threw back his head laughed, which caused the sleeping girl in the other bed to start in her sleep. Hermione cut him off with an elbow to the ribs.

"Ah, I wish I could have seen that! Fred and George would be so proud of you."

Ginny tried to smile, but she had a feeling it looked more like a grimace.

"Madam Pomfrey had to cut the antennae off. Be careful, Ginny. He's really angry with you." Hermione said.

"He won't go near my sister if he knows what's good for him," Ron said as he ground a fist into his other hand. Harry nodded his head in agreement.

How could she be worried about Draco Malfoy when she was afraid Tom Riddle still possessed her? Her teeth began to chatter. Her skin felt as if it was crawling with insects and she resisted the urge to rub her arms and legs.

"You don't look very good, Gin," Ron said. "Should we get Madam Pomfrey?"

Does she know how to exorcise a ghost? Ginny wanted to ask, but she only shook her head. "No, I'll be all right. I think I just need to sleep a bit more."

Harry and Hermione stood up next to Ron and said their good-byes. _Ginny_, the voice in head demanded. _Talk to Harry! Tell him what happened! He'll know what to do!_

Why was it so hard to say his name? They were walking to the double doors. Ginny struggled for a moment before she was able to say, "Harry, can I ask you something?"

Harry looked back at her and smiled. "Sure, Ginny," he said, turning back to Ron and Hermione. "I'll meet you in the common room in a few minutes, okay?"

They nodded and closed the doors to the hospital wing behind them. Harry came over and sat back down in the chair next to her. "I'm sorry you're not feeling very well."

"I'll be okay."

"You don't have to worry about Quidditch practice Monday night, if that's what you wanted to talk to me about," Harry said as he fiddled with a loose string on his jumper.

"Harry, I didn't ask you to hang back so we could talk about Quidditch," Ginny said more sharply then she intended. Her breathing became ragged as panic threatened to well up and break through the surface.

Harry looked taken aback by her outburst. "Oh," he said as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well, what's up then?"

"That girl," Ginny said as she nudged her blanket-covered foot at the other bed. "How did she get here?"

"We don't know."

"And the curse she's suffering from, what is it?"

Harry looked at her for a moment and Ginny was afraid he wasn't going to tell her. "I'm not a child anymore, Harry! Stop treating me like one," she said as a faint thread of hysteria rose in her voice. "I think I can, no," she said as she shook her head. "I know I can handle it. Tell me, Harry!"

"It's not that, Ginny. Not many people know, is all."

"Bill knows. I can't believe no one told me he's here."

"He came in to see you earlier, but you were asleep," Harry said.

"Oh," Ginny said softly. She began to pick at the pills on her blanket. She had to tell him, needed to tell him, but the words would not come. They ran together in her mind, over and over again. Tom Riddle, he's not gone, he's still here in my mind, help me, Harry, please help me. I don't think I can go through this again without you. You helped me once, and I'm so afraid--

"Her tongue is missing," Harry said and Ginny's head shot up.

Two pieces of a puzzle clicked together in her mind. Her dream, in her dream the girl's mouth had been threaded closed. It made sense now. She looked at Harry and then to the girl, watching the rise and fall of her back as she breathed in her sleep.

"I had a dream about her earlier," she said quietly. "I was here in bed and awoke to find her holding my wand. Only when she turned around to face me, her mouth was sewn together with heavy black thread."

Harry winced and Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "It wasn't a very nice dream"

"No, I wouldn't say so. But prophetic in a sense, since you didn't know who she was or what she was suffering from," Harry said as he shifted in his seat.

"I guess so." _Now_, her inner voice said. _It's the perfect opening. Tell him what you saw! Tell him about Tom Riddle. Do it! Do it._

"Harry, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he said as he leaned back. She searched his face for a moment, his face momentarily overlapped by her memory of Henry. She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and bit down hard. "Are you okay?" he asked.

_No, Harry. I'm not okay. I'm still in love with you and you think Dean and I are still a couple. I've been possessed by Tom Riddle again and I know that girl in the bed over there came from the past. I know because he showed me._

But she could not say that. All she did was nod her head. When she opened her mouth to speak, she was surprised by what she did say. "Last week in the common room when I awoke from my nap you were in the chair across from me, do you remember?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at her uncertainly. "Um, yeah. I remember."

"When I woke up and asked you if I was snoring you looked like you were going to say something different before Crookshanks jumped on your lap. What were you going to say?"

Why was she asking him this? Why could she ask him about this and not tell him about Tom Riddle? What was she thinking? This wasn't nearly as important as telling him what happened to her.

But, but what was he going to say? Would he tell her the truth?

"I, uh," Harry looked very uncomfortable. "I don't remember."

"Oh," Ginny said, disappointment rushing through her. She was surprised at how hurt she felt; especially since she was positive he was lying. "Oh," she said again as she nodded her head and settled back down onto the pillow. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Ginny is everything --?"

"No, Harry. I'm really tired, okay?" She rolled over so she was facing away from him. She didn't want him to see the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes and slowly rolled down to wet the pillow.

She could do this on her own. Ginny could deal with Tom Riddle by herself and if not, well then, she'd speak to Dumbledore. There was no reason at all to get Harry involved.

"Okay then," Harry said and she heard the chair scrape across the floor as he stood up behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Ginny said thickly, her throat threatening to close around a sob. "See you tomorrow." A moment later, she could feel him pause for a minute before closing the doors behind him.

Harry stopped just outside the closed doors and leaned against them, suddenly unsure of what to do. Ginny had been trying to tell him something, something he wasn't sure he was ready to hear. But why had he lied to her? What harm could it have done to tell her he had been thinking of his mum and dad as he watched her sleep? The common room has been quiet that day, in the way of lazy Sunday afternoons. He had sat down in the chair, not realizing she was there. He thought he was alone, and it was a blessing really, one he wasn't able to afford often. She made a soft noise, a moan really, and Harry found his gaze drawn to her.

Annoyance momentarily coursed through him because he was afraid his moment of peace had been broken. But then he realized it was she who was sleeping. Instead of getting up and going to the dorm room, he stayed to watch her. She had become pretty, he noticed as his eyes played over her slightly irregular features. Why hadn't he realized it before? It might have been because he never allowed himself a moment to realize it. Harry was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to count the freckles on her nose. He had no words to describe what he felt as he watched her, so instead he listened to her breathing and watched her sleep. Could he have said her hair had glinted with the flickering of the flames, and it had almost seemed alive? He couldn't tell her that.

How could he have told her he had been thinking of his mum and dad while he was watching her sleep? How he wondered if his dad had ever watched his mum sleep in front of the fire like that?

Harry sighed and opened the door to peek in on her. She was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her vibrant red hair completely covering the pillow underneath her head. Maybe something other then his response to her question was bothering her, he suddenly thought. And maybe, maybe if he hadn't lied, she would have told him. Suddenly he realized how much of a mistake he had made by not telling her the truth. He was about to go back into the room when Ginny rolled over and closed her eyes, clearly trying to go back to sleep.

Admittedly he knew he spent more time everyday wishing Dean and Ginny would break up. But he was also afraid of how to approach her if they ever did part. How could he tell Ginny the truth? How could he tell her about the pang of jealousy he felt in his midsection every time he had seen them together? How was he supposed to suddenly explain to her how he felt after avoiding her and her feelings towards him for so many years? How could he explain to her that while he was sitting there alongside of her in the Hospital Wing, he was wondering if her lips felt as soft as they looked.

He was going to have to do something about how he felt about Ginny soon. And if she was still seeing Dean, so be it. The monster inside of him rearing its ugly head every time she came near him was not going to be denied for much longer. And if Ron didn't approve, well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Harry pulled the door shut quietly and started back toward Gryffindor Tower.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven At Long Last**

The following day, Bill did not have the chance to try and break the curse on Adria Thornwood.

When Ginny entered the common room later on that afternoon, she learned from Ron both Bill and Dumbledore had left Hogwarts early that morning.

Ginny sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace next to her brother. "Are you all right, Ginny?" Hermione asked from the other side of Ron. "You still look a bit peaked."

"I'm okay, Hermione, a bit tired, I guess. I didn't sleep very well." Ginny grimaced slightly as Hermione gave her a smile in commiseration. "I was wondering if you could help me finish my Arithmancy homework, my brain still feels a bit fuzzy from the potion Madam Pomfrey gave me last night."

"Of course!" Hermione said and the two of them gathered their books and found an empty table not far from the windows. Putting all thoughts of Tom Riddle firmly out of her mind, Ginny glanced up at Hermione and tilted her head inquisitively at the smile on Hermione's face.

Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she opened her textbook. "Okay, what did I miss? I haven't seen you smiling this much in months."

Hermione looked up at Ginny and blushed. She leaned in towards Ginny and whispered, "Won-Won and Lavender broke up last night."

Ginny looked up and saw Ron animatedly talking to Harry, and avoiding the eye of Lavender Brown who sat in the corner with Pavarti, whispering furiously and shooting Ron dirty looks.

With a rueful smile Ginny said, "last night must have been break up night."

Hermione put down her quill and looked up at Ginny in surprise. "Not you and Dean too?" At Ginny's nod she said, "I know you two had been having problems, but I guess I wasn't expecting it so soon. What happened?"

Ginny waved her hand and mumbled something about Dean always trying to help her when she didn't need help and how the last time they had come through the portrait door together he had grabbed her elbow and it had made her feel like an invalid. The only thing she did not want to tell Hermione about was her feelings for Harry, considering all of the pitying looks she had received from her the last time everyone knew about her crush on the Chosen One.

"What happened between Lavender and Won – I mean Ron?"

Hermione told Ginny about how Lavender had seen her and Ron coming down from the boys' dorm, not knowing Harry was in front of them under his Invisibility Cloak. As Hermione talked animatedly, Ginny found her mind drifting uncomfortably to her time spent in the Hospital Wing last night. She knew she needed to stop thinking about them, but for some reason the scary and somewhat prophetic feeling dreams from the evening before weren't easy to pass off. _It was just nightmares_, she thought easily in the daylight hours. Staring out over the table to the mingling students in the common room, it was very easy for her to put Tom Riddle and the strange girl out of her mind. Right now all she needed to concentrate on was finishing her homework before it was due tomorrow.

As she and Hermione leaned over their Arithmancy books, Ginny discovered if she turned her head just a bit she had a clear view of Harry who had moved to the chair across from Ron. She watched him talking to Ron, not being able to hear their conversation, but just the cadence of his voice was soothing and somehow disconcerting. Dark pockets of fatigue peeked out from below his black rimmed glasses.

"Is everything okay, I mean, with Harry?" Ginny asked quietly, trying to appear casual as she dipped her quill and wrote her name across the top of clean parchment. "He looks tired."

Hermione glanced behind her at Ron and Harry before turning to look at Ginny. "He's fine, I suppose. As fine as Harry can be," Hermione said as she narrowed her eyes at Ginny. "He would be a bit tired today, I would guess. After he left you in the Hospital Wing we received a note from Hagrid that Aragog had died. Do you know who Aragog is?"

Ginny nodded, remembering with a shiver the story Ron had told her about the huge arcomantula that wanted to let his offspring eat Harry and Ron in their second year.

"Well, Harry decided he needed to go down to be with Hagrid and he also thought he could accomplish a task Professor Dumbledore had given him at the same time. Luck was on his side last evening and he was able to accomplish everything he set out to do."

"I guess that means he finally used his Felix Felcis then." Ginny felt an odd twinge of disappointment somewhere deep in her chest on learning the potion was gone. It had figured into a few of her daydreams involving Harry and it saddened her to realize Harry had used it last night.

Hermione nodded distractedly and pointed out an error in Ginny's homework. Glancing over Hermione's shoulder again, she found herself staring into Harry's green eyes as he watched her. It suddenly became clear to her that Harry could very easily have moved his seat so he could look up and see her. After a few beats, she tore her eyes away and made the corrections to her paper. A flush creeping up her neck made her realize her cheeks were probably stained pink. It didn't help matters every time she looked up, Harry was watching her. What could it mean?

The next time she looked up, she started to find Harry standing right behind Hermione. He pushed his hands into his jeans pocket and smiled at her. "Hey Ginny, I hope you're feeling better."

Ginny nodded as she exchanged a glance with Hermione, who was wearing a knowing smirk on her face. "Thank you, Harry, I do feel better today."

"Do you think you would be up to extra Quidditch practices for the next fortnight before the match with Ravenclaw? If you don't feel up to it, I'd understand."

Ginny smiled up at him, ignoring the scowl of Dean who was staring at her by the portrait hole where he had just entered the common room with Seamus. "Of course I can make the extra practices, Harry!" she said brightly. "Just let me know when and I'll be there!"

And since that afternoon, every time she turned around, Harry was there. At first they tried to laugh it off as silly coincidences, but there was a look in his eyes when he glanced at her she didn't quite know how to identify. She didn't mind him looking at her, not at all, but she refused to act like a love sick puppy around him. She laughed at his jokes or made him laugh with a few of her own, but she never went out of her way to find him or to be overly needy towards him. Just being able to admit to herself she was in love with him again gave her the courage to act casual around him. Especially when Romilda Vane and friends made fools of themselves over him every chance they got.

To her great relief, Dean had been bumped from the team when Katie returned from St. Mungo's that following Thursday. She was so happy Katie had returned seemingly free of any lasting effects from the cursed necklace. No longer did she have to evade his eyes or try to avoid him on the Quidditch pitch. For the first time she could remember she mounted her broom with a feeling of unabashed freedom. As the nights passed with no recurrence of nightmares or unwanted memory flashes, she able to set aside her silly fear she was being possessed by Tom Riddle again. She swore to herself that if anything happened again, she would tell Harry about the girl and Tom Riddle.

Through talking with Hermione Ginny discovered the three of them still visited the girl daily. Hermione said she thought she was helping the girl become up to date on what happened in both the Muggle and Wizarding World while she had been gone, but of course she couldn't be sure because all Adria did was stare out the window when she were there. It made her feel a bit guilty, but Ginny had no desire to see the girl again. There was just something about her which made Ginny distinctly uneasy.

A few days before the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, Ginny was returning to the common room when Harry streaked past her soaking wet and covered in blood. "Wha—?" she started to ask, but she never had the chance to finish her thought. She stared at him in horror as a few moments later he ran past her again, this time carrying his school bag.

"What on earth is going on?" she asked Ron a few minutes later when she entered the common room, but Ron shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"I don't know, but it's not good."

An hour later, the four of them sat across from one another as Harry had told them what had happened when he came upon Draco Malfoy in the boys' loo. Icy fear curdled in Ginny's stomach when Harry described what the spell in the Potions book had done to Malfoy. What would have happened to Draco if Snape had not arrived? Ginny shivered at the thought of what would have happened to Harry if Draco had died. In the middle of Harry's explanation, McGonagall entered through the portrait hole and called Harry out of the common room. _Oh Merlin! What if they expelled him?_

When he returned fifteen minutes later and called the Quidditch team together, she stood beside him to offer him support as he explained he would be in detention this Saturday and would not be able to fly as Seeker against Ravenclaw. She and Ron knew already of course, but the rest of the team reacted with shock and anger. He obviously avoided her eyes as he told her she would be playing Seeker and Dean would take her place as Chaser.

What could she do or say to him to make him feel better? Everything she thought she could say sounded so trite and meaningless, so in the end she didn't say anything. Every time their eyes did meet, she tried to give him a small smile, but he just frowned at her and turned away. It was almost as if she could read his thoughts. They had been so close to winning the House Championship this year, but Ginny knew they didn't have much of a chance without Harry playing. How embarrassing for them as a House if they finished in last place for the first time in years and years.

She sat alongside of him on the couch across from Ron and Hermione and fought the urge to take his hand so fiercely. All she wanted to do was just squeeze it and let him know she was still standing beside him no matter what happened. Then having to listen to Hermione going on and on about the Potions book and the Half-Blood Prince and getting nastier and nastier as Harry tried to tell her to drop it was slowly causing Ginny's blood to boil.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She stood up and stared down at the older girl. "Give it a rest, Hermione!" she said, and peripherally she could see Harry's head shoot up to stare at her in amazement. "By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!"

Hermione snapped back at her about how Ginny should be angry too, as Harry ruined their chances on winning the match this week and Ginny had had enough. "Oh, don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch," she snapped as she flopped back down on the couch beside Harry, "you'll only embarrass yourself." Then she folded her arms and pointedly would not look at Hermione for the rest of the night. It wasn't too long after her outburst the four of them went to bed without saying speaking another word to one another.

The few remaining practices the following week were a somber affair. In Harry's absence, she tried to rally the team together and even talked Ron and Katie into helping keep the team's spirits up. To her amazement, the team responded to them as the veteran members of the team, she and Katie took turns giving advice while they were practiced. Even Dean who had been steadily avoiding and ignoring her since they broke up listened to her attentively as she offered advice how the Ravenclaw Chasers played.

The morning of the match, Ginny felt as if her insides had tied themselves up in a knot. There was no where she would rather be, but oh how she wished Harry was there beside her as she walked out on the pitch. All around her the stands were filled with the House colors, scarlet, gold, blue and bronze. The din of crowd rose to a dull roar as the sunlight struck the Gryffindor team. It was true most of the Gyffindors were quite vocal in their disappointment of Harry, they were still loyal to their team. Tightening the clasp holding her braid together, she gave one last deep sigh and let it out slowly. She mounted her broom beside her brother and Katie, feeling the warmth of sunshine on her face and knowing whether or not they won or lost, they would give it their all, if only because of Harry.

Where could he be?

Leave it to Snape to keep him in detention for the whole afternoon, where he was probably going crazy wanting to know what had happened on the pitch.

Ginny and the rest of the Gryffindors celebrated in their common room while they waited for him to arrive. Where was Harry? She climbed up on a battered couch, still in her Quidditch robes, keeping a keen eye over everyone's head for him to arrive. She absently pulled her hair from her braid, tugging her hands through the long locks, smoothing snarls and tangles. This was his victory as much as theirs; it was because of him they had the motivation to accomplish it in the first place.

When the portrait swung open and his leg appeared, the crowd erupted in cheers and cries of happiness. His classmates pulled him into the room and Ginny jumped down from the couch and pushed through the crowd. Ron yelled as he pushed the silver Cup towards Harry, "We won! We won! Four hundred and fifty to one hundred and forty! We won!"

Without thinking, Ginny ran to him, and his eyes were on hers as threw her arms around his neck, burying her nose in his neck, drinking in his scent. It didn't matter to her Ron and Hermione were right beside him. It didn't matter to her everyone was watching, it didn't matter to her one bit if people started talking again about Ginny Weasley and her silly little crush on Harry Potter, the Boy who Never Noticed she Existed.

His arms encircled her, momentarily lifting her off of her feet and tangling in the ends of her hair as his hands tightened around her waist. She pulled back and looked up at him and amazingly, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. An electrifying shock reverberated throughout her entire body and her pulse began to beat erratically as his lips moved over hers, deepening the kiss. Knees weak, she clung to his forearms, knowing if he let her go at that moment, she would melt straight into the floor.

When the kiss finally ended, she stood there staring up at him, blank, amazed and very, very shaken. At first she attributed the silence she heard as her buzz frantically humming in her head. But when she glanced at the crowd, the entire common room was standing stock still and staring at them. Then the boys began to wolf whistle and a few of the girls began to giggle nervously. Ginny was afraid to seek out Ron, or Dean, so instead she kept her eyes on Harry and nodded wordlessly as he gestured with his head towards the portrait hole.

Once the portrait hole swung shut behind them, Harry leaned over and kissed her again.

"Well. It's about time," the Fat Lady said as she raised her glass of wine to them.

"You kissed me. In front of everyone," Ginny managed to say as they slowly walked through the hallways towards the grounds.

Harry's hand reached for hers. She met his smile and took the hand he offered and laced her fingers with his own. The mere touch of his skin against hers sent a shiver to places she had never realized existed. They stopped at the top of the marble staircase. "Are you terribly angry with me?" His eyes clung to hers analyzing her reaction.

Curious warmth spread through her body as his lips spread into a slow unconscious smile. "No, I'm not angry with you, quite the opposite, actually."

He led her down the stone steps and into the orange sunlight of the waning afternoon.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," Harry said with a slight smile as he shyly looked back at her.

_You have no idea how long I've wanted you to do that_, Ginny thought to herself, but she said, "how long?".

Harry slowed as they walked towards the lake. "Since Ron and I found you and Dean snogging behind the curtain."

"But why ever didn't you say anything before now?" Ginny asked as Harry stopped and wrapped his arms around her. He lightly fingered a loose tendril of copper on her cheek. A delicious shiver ran down her spine as his finger tenderly traced the line of her cheekbone and jaw.

His breath was warm on her face as he whispered, "you belonged to Dean then."

"Not anymore," she whispered as her fingers tangled in the back of his hair.

"No, and I needed to make sure you didn't belong to anyone else," he said and she could feel his uneven breathing on her cheek as he held her close. His lips moved to hers and kissed her slow and thoughtfully, as if she were a tasty dessert he wished to savor. This kiss sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl and once again she felt her legs grow weak. She opened her mouth beneath him, the tip of his tongue touching hers sent shivers of desire racing through her body and she moaned against his mouth.

When they broke apart for air, she buried her face into his neck and she breathed a kiss there, this smiling as she felt him shiver.

"Who do I belong to now, Harry Potter?" she asked as she allowed her weak legs to take her to the grass. Ginny swallowed tightly as he dropped down alongside of her.

"Would you do me the honor of allowing me to be your boyfriend?" He asked seriously and his eyes were filled with a curious deep longing. She took a deep breath of utter astonishment and nodded her head, momentarily speechless. Harry smiled at her and laid his head in her lap. Ginny took a moment while he shifted his position to pinch herself on her thigh quite hard. Nope, he was still there, smiling up at her.

With a sigh of bottomless peace and satisfaction, she leaned over and softly brushed her lips over his. She could do this now whenever she wanted. He was hers. Harry Potter was her boyfriend. For however long it lasted, she would never ever forget these first kisses and how blissfully happy she felt, how very much alive.

"Now, tell me everything that happened during the match," Harry said as he reached up a hand to play with her hair.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight After the Funeral**

After Harry stood and strode down the aisle towards the lake, Ginny sat with her hands clasped together in her lap, frozen in her seat. A few moments later, her attention was drawn to her brother and Hermione as they stood up to follow him. She turned back to the white tomb, silent and alone in her grief until she couldn't look at it for another second. Her eyes flitted everywhere but the tomb, a recent and permanent reminder of Dumbledore's fate.

Above her, white fluffy clouds drifted across the deep blue sky and she involuntarily shivered, even though the day was warm. She pulled her sweater closer across her body. All around her, people were beginning to stand and make their way back to the castle. Ginny turned her head to the lake, wanting to find him, but failing. Never before has he felt so far removed from her and she wasn't sure what he meant by what he said. Did he still want to be with her, but felt her safety was in jeopardy? If Voldemort disappeared tomorrow, would he come back to her?

Fred paused at her row and held out his hand. She looked up him in surprise, and then back down at her hands. With a small, sad smile she slid her hand into his and stood up from the chair. Fred tucked it into the crook of his elbow and placed his other hand over hers momentarily, squeezing gently. She would always remember Fred's kindness to her this day, and the way George came over to her other side, wrapping his arm around her waist. Could it be her older brothers were maturing as their business flourished? They must have realized what it meant to find her sitting alone surrounded by three empty seats. She stared at her feet as they walked across the grounds, the green grass blurring under her shoes.

As they neared the castle doors, Fred paused and said over his shoulder, "Who's that, up there? Standing in front of the windows in the infirmary? Is it a student or a ghost we've never seen before?"

Ginny looked up at thecasement windowsand found Adria was staring out over the grounds. With everything that happened in the last week, Ginny had not had the time or inclination of giving the strange girl above another thought.

"Adria," Bill sighed and her name sounded like a whisper on the wind, _Ah-dre-ah_. How could just a name spoken out loud speak volumes of pain Bill was feeling? Ginny looked sharply over at him, wincing at the sight of the still fresh marks on his face. "We've forgotten all about her. I've forgotten all about her."

"What this about?" Mr. Weasley said, following his son's gaze up the side of the castle to the windows.

"I've forgotten all about the girl up there. A month or so ago, Dumbledore asked me to help, said she was suffering from a curse, her tongue is gone." Mr. Weasley winced as Fleur tightened her grip on Bill's arm. "I was going to try and break the curse, but with everything that's happened, I've forgotten. I wonder what'll happen to her now."

"Has she been in the Hospital Wing this whole time?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Well, yes, I guess so," Bill began and Fred dropped her arm from his as he and his twin moved over to their oldest brother and father.

Ginny stopped and stared up at the girl who was gazing out towards the lake. Cocking her head to the side, she turned to follow Adria's line of sight, and wasn't surprised to find her staring at Harry, Hermione and Ron. Ginny looked back up and saw an expression on Adria's face that Ginny could not quite describe. Again, Ginny felt something slither deep in her subconscious and she quickly looked away from the windows. Not here, Ginny frantically thought to herself. She was not going to have another episode here surrounded by her family! She put her hand to her chest and willed her breathing to slow.

Looking up, she caught sight of the three of them walking towards the castle, and Ron was on one side of Hermione, his arm tucked around her waist. Harry was on her other side, smiling sadly at something. Ginny winced as Hermione reached out and took his hand. Sparing one last look to the upper windows, she stiffened to find Adria Thornwood staring down at her. Their eyes met and sourness settled in the pit of Ginny's stomach.

"Are you ready to go, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, touching Ginny lightly on her upper arm.

Starting out of her reverie, Ginny shook her head, and looked back at the three teenagers heading her way. A few more feet and they would see her standing there. Did she really want to be here when they arrived?

She glanced back up to the windows, and then quickly away, not surprised to find them empty. Did she want to be here as they came upon her, with Harry avoiding her eyes and shifting from foot to foot in awkwardness?

_No_, she decided firmly, _I most definitely do not want to be here to see it. And what if he can meet my eyes after breaking off with me? Because, what if it was just an excuse to do it?_ She didn't think so, but what did she know? She was not a mind reader, and she had absolutely no idea why Harry made the decisions he did.

Molly Weasley tapped her daughter on her arm. "Well, hurry up back to your dorm and we'll meet you in the Great Hall in half an hour."

Turning with a quickness that startled her mother, Ginny flew up the castle steps and into the cool, dark interior of the school. Stopping once inside, she paused to look over the damage still evident from the attack just a few nights ago. Never before has she felt the emptiness of the entire castle upon her as she did right then. She instinctively knows the school was damaged somehow, and like a living, breathing entity wounded in battle, it now carried scars.

It should have been a dream, a nightmare. There was a Death Eater attack here, at Hogwarts and the headmaster murdered by one of his professors. There was just so many things wrong with the whole scenario! But it was still so terribly hard for her to wrap her mind around her memories of that night because if they weren't safe at Hogwarts then there was nowhere in England for them to safe.

A feeling quite like nostalgia flowed over her as she walked up the marble steps, trailing her hand behind her up the cool to the touch banister. This was never supposed to have happened. She was should have been taking her N.E.W.T.S and spending time with Harry, who was finally after all of these years, her boyfriend. She was supposed to spend her time after term ended writing him long sexy letters while he was at the Dursley's, counting down the days until he would arrive at the Burrow. Her thoughts should have revolved around summer plans, heat and sweat, swimming and sunshine. All she should have been concerned about was lazy days and languid nights laying on a blanket with Harry staring at the stars and doing other things.

No where in her plans should there have been thoughts of horror, fear and war. Death Eaters, Voldemort and Tom Riddle had no place in this world, her world. She was not supposed to be worrying and wondering on how many of her friends were going to die this summer.

She was not supposed to be worrying about Harry and praying he was strong enough to defeat Voldemort.

A lump formed in her throat and Ginny swallowed hard, tasting bitterness. She did not want to cry.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, lighting the dust motes in the air as Ginny walked along the hallways for what she was afraid was the last time. Light and warmth from the sun could not penetrate the chill she felt creeping into her bones. She knew there was a very good chance Hogwarts was not going to open next term and a terrible, overwhelming sadness came over her and tears for the school rolled down her cheeks. The portraits along the walls watched her silently as she passed, every one of them mourning the loss of the school and the Great Albus Dumbledore with her.

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open for her in silence. No passwords were needed today. Once inside, Ginny collapsed in a sitting position on the edge of a couch cushion. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and placed her head in her hands. She stared at the floor until her vision blurred and tears dripped down her nose to pool on the carpet.

With all of her strength and courage, she stood from the couch, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands as she turned to look at the circular room she had come to love. Over there was where Harry kissed her for the first time. Right by those shelves by the windows was where she first kissed a very surprised Dean Thomas. There was so much from here she wanted to take with her. She wanted to memorize every single piece of furniture, each piece of Gryffindor paraphernalia scattered about the room.

All four of her dorm mates had left the day before, pulled from the school by their horror-struck parents. How could it be just last week there were girls up here, loudly gossiping and laughing as they threw pillows at one another? This room felt lifeless.

Not wanting to linger any longer then she needed to; Ginny used her wand to summon her trunk up onto the bedspread of her four poster. It sprang open and with a low spoken spell, her clothing flew from the cabinet and into the trunk, neatly folded.

Never was she able to pinpoint exactly when her feelings about her break up with Harry shifted from startled hurt to white-hot anger. Knowing and understanding why Harry felt he needed to break up with her certainly didn't make it hurt any less. Maybe it was the way she remembered Harry getting up and walking away from her, so noble and strong.

More then likely it was the smile she caught sight of when he was unawares which lit the fuse.

Was it her sudden silent knowledge he was allowing Ron and Hermione to join him on his quest to defeat Voldemort? How he was once again overlooking how she held her own fighting the Death Eaters the other night? Or was it more childish, this anger? Did it stem from the fact he was allowing them to comfort him and not her? A flush of embarrassment spread down her body as she remembered what she said about never giving up on him.

Without thinking, she laid her wand down on her bedside cabinet and picked up her History of Magic book from the shelf below the drawer. She tested the weight of it in her hand for a minute, before sending the book flying into the stone wall behind her. A feeling of satisfaction soared through her at the deep thud the book made as it connected with the wall. Grabbing the other books, she fired them off at the wall in quick succession, each whomp the books made reverberating throughout her body.

Once the books were gone, she looked frantically in hiding places around the room, searching for more projectiles to hurl. She wanted more things to throw, more things to break against the wall, and she wanted those somethings to shatter.

It only took a quick beat for the remaining bottle of butterbeer pulled from its hiding place under Abigail's bed to be smashed and foaming against the wall. Gone in a flash were her bottles of perfume. Lying in a heap on the floor under the wall was a puddle of butter beer, the smelly remainders of her potion bottles, along with some glass knick knacks her dorm-mates had carelessly left behind in their haste to leave yesterday. A soft knock came at the door and without thinking, Ginny spun, pulled back her arm and let fly aglass bottlethat exploded against the door.

The knock did not come again.

Breathing heavy, she brought her hands up to her face and pushed the heels of her palms hard into her eyes. Her temper and body exhausted, she looked around the wreckage of the room in silent wonder. There was a sickening sweet combined smell of perfume, butterbeer and potion experiments lingering in the air. Something was trickling down her left temple and she reached up thinking it was sweat and wiped it away, surprised to find her fingers covered with hot, sticky blood. Without thinking, she stuffed her bloody fingers into her mouth and moved to grab her wand. She needed to clean this mess up before leaving because it wouldn't be fair or proper to leave her mess behind for the House elves to clean.

Skirting around the broken glass, Ginny reached for her wand, her fingers brushing the tip and knocking it onto the floor. "Not again!" she said and then cursed loudly as it clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed. Dropping to her knees, she let out a sharp cry of pain and twisted into a sitting position to inspect her knee, where a very large piece of glass protruded from it.

_This is my punishment_, she thought with a wince she pulled out the glass. This is my punishment for having a temper tantrum like a child. She put her hand over her knee, and pressed down hard on the wound. Sharp pain shoots up her leg and tears of a different kind prickle behind her eyes. Leaning back against the bed, she breathed deeply for a moment before grabbing the pillow behind her and pulling off the pillowcase.

Once the area in front of the bed is covered, Ginny kneels down again, favoring her injured knee. She peers under the bed, swearing heavily under her breath. Her wand is too far for her to reach without lying down and scooting her body under the bed. Breath rushes out of her in a rush as she lies on her stomach, arm outstretched towards her wand.

A rush of dark red flies across her imagination, like a half-formed memory. It made her stop fumbling and pull her arm back protectively to her side. Strange and disquieting thoughts of something not fully realized something scary, something… (Chasing?) her began to race through her mind. Closing her eyes, she mentally cleared her thoughts as she exhaled a deep breath. She pushed herself further under the bed and resisted the urge to sigh in relief as her hand closed around the hilt of her wand.

Behind her there was another sharp knock and the dorm room door opened. Ginny's already on edge nerves gave a heave and her body jerked of its own accord, slamming the back of her head into the wooden boards holding up the mattress. A leather bound book falls from the box springstwo inches from her face as her handwent to the newly formed knot on the top of her head.

Footsteps quickly approach her bed. "What happened in here? Ginny? Ginny, where are you? Are you okay?"

Hermione.

Ginny sneezed from the dust bunnies and wiped her nose absently. "I'm under the bed, Hermione. I'm okay. I'm a little beat up," she said under her breath, "I dropped my wand." She scooted back into the light.

The way she must have looked showed plainly on Hermione's face. "Um. Your mother asked me to come up and let you know we'll be leaving shortly. Are you going to need any help with…with this?" Hermione asked as she looked around the wreckage of the room. "Whatever happened here?" She turned back to Ginny.

Ginny bit her bottom lip until she could feel her pulse beat between her teeth. She was not going to cry. _I am not going to cry_. She was a Weasley and even though she didn't have much, she did have her pride. "Harry broke up with me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open as her eyes flew up to meet Ginny's. _She didn't know. Harry didn't tell her._ Ginny tried very hard to smile at her, but quickly turned away to flick her wand and whisper the spell to vanish all the broken glass. With another flick and spell her school books zoomed into her trunk neatly stacked. It only took a moment or two of activity before the room was clean, and her trunk closed and locked. "There isn't anything I can do about the smell, unfortunately, so I guess the house elves will just have to open the windows and allow it to air out…"

Ginny was fully aware she is babbling, but she knows if she doesn't babble she may start to cry and that was Just Not To Be Done in front Harry's best friend. _He can never know how much this hurts me_, Ginny thinks to herself. _He can never know how much he has broken my heart._

"Ginny, I…"

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her knee to her chest to examine her wound. It was still bleeding freely and she cursed softly under breath. "Don't Hermione, please," surprising herself at how strong her voice sounded. She summoned a couple of tissues into her hand from the bedside cabinet and held them against her knee, blotting up the blood. "I'll be okay."

"Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?" Hermione asked helplessly.

"I think I'd like to be alone," Ginny said, not looking up. She threw the used tissue into thetrash binand picked up another, licking it with her tongue before scrubbing it against her temple. "If you wouldn't mind."

"Okay. But if you need anything, Gin, please don't hesitate to ask. If you need to talk, you know I'd never, you know I'd never say anything to Harry, I mean."

Why did what Hermione said sound so final? _Ah, because she chose him, Ginny thought to herself. She chose to put herself in the face of unspeakable danger with Harry. How lucky she was to have that choice, my choice was made for me with no thought to how I felt about it. _

Ginny looked up at Hermione and smiled tightly, nodding her head. How unfair was it she still wished it was Harry who had come through the door instead of Hermione. She knew the logistics were impossible, remembering the time Ron tried to come up the girl's staircase, but she still felt disappointment at his absence. She wanted to be able to make her own decisions where her life was concerned. It certainly didn't matter to her if Voldemort tried to target her in order to get to Harry. She knew she would've decided to stand beside him no matter what was done or said to her.

Because she was Harry Potter's girl through and through.

But he would never allow her to make that decision, preferring to make it himself. But right now, she had another decision to make and if possible, this one was just as frightening as the other.

Waiting until the door clicked behind Hermione, Ginny stood from the bed and stared at the space in shadow under it. So. There was a book of unknown origin under her bed. How did it get there? Whose was it? _Oh Merlin_, she thought with a shudder. _Please let it just be a book. Please don't let it have its own consciousness. Please don't let it try and kill me. It was under my bed! I've been sleeping on it for years!_ She pursed her lips from one side to the other and brought her restless hands up to her hair, pushing it from her face.

Tapping her foot as she thought hard, she worried her thumb nail and contemplated the ramifications of just leaving it right where it was. After all, old, musty, unattended books historically did not bode well for her health. Still burning years later from Tom Riddle's deception and betrayal her breath hitched in her throat for a moment as she turned to look at the blue sky through the window.

She may be emotional, she may have the temper of an Irish Hellhound and she certainly may enjoy breaking things when she was angry, but the one thing Ginny Weasley was not, she will admit to herself, is a coward.

"_Accio_ book," she says, and the heavy, leather bound book flies up from under the bed and into her waiting hand. It looked innocent enough, although the leather was stained and cracked in places. She ran a finger down the spine, and flipped the front cover open, noting with a clinical eye it had been hand bound. Expensive book. The pages are yellow with age and feel brittle under the pads of her fingers. Moving to flip through the pages, she looks up suddenly as the dorm room door opens once more.

Hermione poked her head in and gave Ginny a sympathetic smile. "Your parents would like you to meet them in the Hall. They're just about ready to leave."

Ginny nodded her head and stood. Decision made, she waved her wand over the trunk so it sprung open, and dropped the book inside. The lid shut with a solid thunking noise and locked all by itself. Later, when she was feeling stronger she'd tackle the book.

"Okay, I'm ready now."


End file.
